


The Shame Machine

by Wagyubeefy



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire
Genre: Illustrated, Multi, Other, also involves glinda/avaric and glinda/milla but. lets be real., partly a punk au, partly just a modern au, very explicit in lit and drawing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8594875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagyubeefy/pseuds/Wagyubeefy
Summary: Galinda is the heiress to the illustrious Arduenna Clan and undisputed queen of Crage Hall's College for Young Ladies. Elphaba, better known as Fae, is a reclusive performance artist and queerpunk urban legend. When they begin to collide, their worlds are left changed forever, and not all necessarily for the better.





	1. Power and Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of Shame Machine, finally! I hope you all enjoy this fic! warning for some kinda homophobic/transphobic language and sentiment for this chapter. 
> 
> Each chapter title will be a song reference, so consider the chapter titles a kind of eclectic mix tape in the making. (They haven't been planned to fit as a mix AT ALL though lmao) This chapter's is (obviously) Power & Control by Marina and the Diamonds.

 

"Drop me here at the corner, ama."

"Alright." Ama Clutch brought the car up to the curb and looked at Galinda across the console wryly. "When should I come get you?"

"I'll get a ride from Avaric," Galinda said distractedly, undoing her seatbelt.

"You won't be coming back tonight then." Ama was giving her a knowing, disapproving look. "Have fun. Don't let him get his way quite as much, hm?"

"I'm not his mother."

"With a boy like him? Close enough." Galinda grimaced. "You know that's not what I meant, anyway."

Galinda had quite enough of that. She opened the door and stepped out of the car. "Thanks for the lift." She shut the door and walked a block and a half down to Milla's birthday party.

For the first time in her life, Galinda had no idea who would be at the party she was attending. She didn't really know who Milla hung out with. She wasn't actually _in_ Galinda's friend group, but she was a prefect of Crage Hall, and that meant all the prefects had to go to this party. They'd had to submit an essay on party attendance earlier that term and it was in the backs of all their minds.

Shenshen's mansion of a house came into view when she turned the block corner. Milla had very boldly asked Shenshen if they could host it at hers as a birthday present. Shenshen had the best house of anyone in their group and Milla, Galinda figured, had the worst. It was the mythical coolness of Shenshen's house that made this request passable; who _wouldn't_ want their party at Shenshen's place? So Shenshen had agreed.

Galinda picked her way through the front yard, careful with her heels on the gravel and grass. The front door was open. Music she'd heard right from her ama's car reverberated from the house, the bass strong as a hammer. The interior was a crowded mess of people dressed in all kinds of outfits. She had to give Milla credit for making it a costume party; Galinda had a backlog of costumes she'd been waiting to bust out, and she'd came in one of her favourites tonight. Not her _best_. That was reserved for better parties.

At first Galinda had put it down to the costumes, but as she walked around and got a good look at the people she realised these weren't the usual Crage Hall - Ozma Towers crowd. She'd seen some people from Three Queens, the kinds of people she'd rather not be able to recognize. The rest were completely unidentifiable. She couldn't categorize them because they were all in costume. She just knew most of their clothes were second hand.

The real shock was the Animals. Actual _Animals_! At the same party as her! She was baffled. She'd only met one or two in her life, she was under the impression there simply weren't that many in Shiz. Apparently they'd all come to this party. Galinda had no idea what the procedure was with Animals. She beelined for the kitchen, where she knew Shenshen would be.

She spotted her friends around the kitchen island. "Girls!" she called, relieved and only half hiding it. She joined the ring with her arms curling around Shenshen and Pfannee's waists. They cried out and squeezed and kissed her. Milla was across from them, pouring shots with a couple of mystery girls. They weren't from her cheerleading team, but they had her preference for dyed hair and piercings.

Galinda managed to catch Milla's eye and gave her a smile. "Happy birthday babe."

Milla blinked. "Galinda." Galinda hadn't said she was coming. It was an intimidation method she'd been taught by the third year girls, something only particularly liked people could get away with. "Didn't know you were coming." It wasn't meant to be called out.

Galinda rolled with it. "I wasn't invited?" She glanced at Shenshen and Pfannee.

Milla shrugged her shoulders. "No one from Crage Hall really was, other than my team and Shenshen. And yet here you two are. I feel special." She said this sarcastically. Galinda contained any visible disapproval, she didn't feel up to sparring with Milla. Though it was spectacularly easy to find herself in such a conversation.

Her and Milla seemed like adversaries in Galinda's mind, both of them school leaders of opposing camps. Of the four prefects, Galinda and Milla had been the two chosen by the faculty rather than the student body, and of the two of them Galinda - from the principle of the school herself, Madame Morrible - had received the honour of Head Girl.

This had caused some stir. Head Girls were generally elected by the student body, and had that come to pass Shenshen would have been the obvious winner. She was the most popular third year and possibly the most popular student of Crage Hall's to date. To Galinda, Shenshen was a true person's-person. She was a natural partier; daring but relaxed; confident but casual; genuine, but somehow undeniably cool.

She was not Head Girl material. Head Girl was Morrible's posterchild. Smart, beautiful, ambitious, winning, and _good_. Galinda had been plucked from a pool of relatively well known girls as if by random, and found immediate popularity overnight; not just because she was Head Girl, but because she was the first second year to ever be Head Girl, and because she had stolen Shenshen's rightful claim.

Not that Shenshen cared at all. The first day of Galinda's second year Shenshen had greeted her at their first prefect's meeting with a hug and a grin, and thanked her for saving her the stress. Pfannee seemed far more bitter over the whole event. She was the only prefect that'd really worked for the title. Galinda honestly felt a bit bad for her.

Milla, on the other hand, was only there because she was the cheer captain. "Where are the cheer team?" Galinda asked.

"Probably dancing." Milla slid the shot she'd just finished pouring over to Galinda. It was three different colours. "Shots?"

"What kind?"

"ABC."

Galinda downed the shot. It was stronger than she thought, but she kept her composure. Mostly. Milla gave her an uncomfortably sexy smile.

"What are you dressed as?" Pfannee asked.

Galinda struck a stiff pose, tennis racket in hand. "Barbie."

"Babe, it looks super good," Shenshen said lazily.

"I was wondering why your hair looked like that." Pfannee was an expert at passive aggressiveness. Galinda inspected Pfannee's outfit quickly. A devil, to go with Shenshen's angel. It suited them, but it was far from original. Galinda formulated a cutting response.

"I like the joints," Milla interrupted. Galinda blinked at her. "On your waist and shoulders and shit. That's sick."

Galinda smiled unbidden. "Thanks."

Shenshen's hand jumped away from her waist. "Oh my god! Sorry, I hope I didn't smudge it-"

"I used the good stuff, it's not going anywhere. Unless you've already covered yourself with vodka."

"On my way." Shenshen winked and took a shot.

"Where's Avaric?" Pfannee asked, surveying the party. She always had to ask about Avaric.

"I assumed he'd be here," Galinda said.

"We haven't seen him."

Galinda rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "I've gotta go wrangle him from whatever drinking game he's in then. Need him to complete my look." That got her a chorus of disgruntled, knowing responses, and a flicker of jealousy from Pfannee. She gave them a little wave and pushed back into the thick of the party.

The lounge room had been completely cleared of furniture and was the densest dancefloor in the house. There was an impromptu stage area with mics and amps and a DJ station beyond it. There wasn't a band there currently. Above the DJ was a projector screen with some artsy film playing. A fat drag queen with discoloured eyes was raking her hands over the chests of some hunky men. It suited the music, which Galinda couldn't really identify. Horror deephouse? It wasn't really her aesthetic.

She waded through people, following the sound of chanting men, until she was seized by her waist. "Hey babe."

"Avaric! I was looking for you." She pushed his hands off of her. "You're gonna smudge my waistline." He frowned but didn't complain. She looked him over from head to toe. Hair waxed back, golden brown tan, topless except for the bright yellow sweater tied and hanging across his shoulders. He had followed her instructions pretty well. All he needed was the contouring and he'd be the perfect Ken. She took his hand. "Let's get you finished up."

They got a whistle as they climbed the stairs, heading for the spacious second floor bathroom. "Escaping already?" Shenshen grinned up at them.

"Wanna join us?" Galinda shot back. Shenshen guffawed.

"Just don't use my bed."

"We'll stick to your parent's. It's bigger anyway."

"You sick fucking kids."

There was already a line in front of the bathroom. They went to Shenshen's room. "We're gonna use her bed after all?" Avaric said with a white, dimpled grin.

Galinda moved him to sit at her vanity. "No. I need you looking perfect tonight, so just shush and let me work."

He looked at her through the mirror. "Yes ma'am."

Galinda started with the line she had to contour across his neck. She tilted his head up and admired his profile in the mirror. He was the perfect kind of handsome, with the square jaw, the cut cheekbones, the dreamy, heavy set eyes. The distinctive nose that set him apart from any other good looking boy. It was why Galinda had started dating him in the first place. She loved that profile.

She carved out the doll joints on his shoulders, then made him stand up to do his waist. His abs kept shaking. "Avaric."

"It tickles."

She straightened up when she was finished. "Alright. Done."

"Why do I have a tennis ball?"

"Because I'm tennis Barbie and you're my sexy ball boy Ken."

Avaric looked at himself in the mirror, brushing some of the loose setting powder off his peck. "I still think this is super gay."

"That's what being hot to girls looks like Avaric." She packed up her makeup. "Come on." She slapped his ass. He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her down into the party.

Galinda lived for their descent down the stairs. People looked up at them and stared. They stared with hunger and envy. She felt like a queen holding a perfect piece of meat in one hand and a hundred leashes in the other. She felt like she was dangling him over a hundred snapping mouths that would never have him. He posed naturally, she had not even had to instruct him, and she loved him for it. These moments reminded her why they were together. Only Avaric, king of Ozma Towers, could bring her sweetest fantasies into reality.

It was over once they reached the end of the stairs. A ring of Ozma Towers boys waited. This was Avaric's burden, his work for the fantasy. Avaric's friends, nameless and faceless to Galinda, were practically shaking with the chance to rip him down.

They'd barely come off the last step. "Nice look man. Who's dressed as your boyfriend?" There was a ripple of laughter.

"Shut up," another guy said, silencing them. He was closer to Avaric than the others, Galinda knew that much. He eyed Avaric. "You're bold, I'll give you that."

Someone made a whipping motion. The ring of boys trembled with amusement.

They looked at Galinda from the corner of their eyes. They looked at her the same way they had from the very first day her and Avaric had began dating; with an unsettling mix of anger, jealousy and undisguised desire. She hated them, to be honest. But they weren't really her concern.

Avaric took his first opening. He draped his arm over Galinda's shoulders. "Anything for my girl."

Galinda took the cue. She patted Avaric's chest. "And you look _so_ good. I'm staying at yours tonight, right?"

"Sure," Avaric murmured into her neck, kissing her under her ear.

She pushed herself gently out of his arms, her part done. "I'm gonna go find the girls, okay?"

"Come find me later." He slapped her ass as she left. Clever bastard. She caught his friends faces in her periphery and knew he was doing some gross gesture. He'd shown up the single guys and dragged the rest onto his side. She'd known it would happen, she'd been banking on it really. It was still upsetting.

Galinda went in search of friends. There was a band playing in the main room now. The projector above was showing a chaotic scene set in a street. She couldn't see the band through the throng of people, but it sounded way too loud and angry for her anyway. She didn't like any music that involved screaming. Is that what Milla liked? Metal or whatever? She couldn't believe Milla was a prefect of Crage Hall. She couldn't quite believe she was at this party right now.

She eventually found the cheerleading team. They were in the home theatre, smoking weed and not-watching Clueless. Several of them were making out, including Milla and a girl not from Crage Hall. More than making out. Milla's hand, curled around the back of the random girl's knee, slipped under her skirt. Galinda was frozen in the doorway.

"Oh fuck, it's the queen of the school." That roused the attention of most of the cheerleaders, all glancing at the thoroughly stoned speaker and then at Galinda. "Didn't know you'd be gracing our party, your highness." There were some leisurely, mocking chuckles.

Galinda decided not to respond. The cheerleaders, under Milla's protection as cheer captain, had an overt distaste for the upper crust of Crage Hall. Galinda found them all very out of place in the school, but they were one of the school's most successful athletic teams. Milla was small and cocky, but she knew how to cheer.

Milla looked up at her belatedly, the girl half under her still covering her neck with hickies.

"You're not gonna dance at your own party?" Galinda asked.

Milla blinked slowly. "Who said I'm not gonna dance?"

"You can't dance wasted."

Milla grinned. "Bet I could dance with you."

Galinda scoffed. Milla watched her silently. Galinda frowned to herself. "I'll dance with you if you can stand up." Milla pushed herself out of the girl's arms and up onto her feet. She stood in front of Galinda steadily. "Well, look at that."

"I don't need to be wasted to do what I want," Milla said frankly. Galinda grimaced back. "I get the feeling you don't keep promises. Gonna dance with me without getting wasted, princess?" The cheerleaders made a series of 'oooh'ing noises.

"I never promised." Galinda didn't know exactly where the conversation was going or what Milla was trying to put across. Or maybe she did. She didn't want to think about it. "Come find me in the lounge room later and I'll dance with anyone."

Milla dropped back onto the couch, the girl curling back around her. "So you do need to get wasted. Shame."

Galinda returned to the kitchen and found Shenshen and Pfannee still there. She got drunk, because there wasn't really anything else to do. She did shots, she drank mixers, she did more shots, she took part in a brief and ultimately unfinished round of king's cup. She stopped short of getting smashed. She was still holding out for a dance, if the music changed.

Shenshen and Pfannee went off to go to the bathroom, which could take ages in a big party like this. Galinda would have to find either Avaric or Milla. She wasn't keen on seeing Milla again. She'd find Avaric and demand he change the music, or take her home. His or her place, he could choose. She was feeling generous tonight.

She collided bodily with someone while searching the crowd, her drink going all over both of them. She jumped back in horror. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" She blinked up at them. They were tall as hell, even taller than Avaric. They held their shirt off of their body, peering down the stain it'd left on their black tank top.

"It's fine," they said back. She? He? Galinda couldn't tell. They had makeup on and their hair was long, and _beautiful_ under the light, but they were so broad shouldered. They were kind of weird, actually. Galinda realised they were probably a metalhead from Three Queens or Briscoe Hall. She was about to excuse herself until the person looked to the side sharply, their profile set against the projector.

That was a _good_ profile.

"Hey, sorry, what's your name?"

The person looked back down at her. "Elphaba." They were still searching the crowd distractedly. "Sorry, I thought I heard someone…" They waved their hand and looked at her. "I'm Elphaba."

"I'm Galinda of the Arduenna clan." She didn't see any flicker of recognition in Elphaba's eyes, and that both irritated and interested her. _Everyone_ knew her. "So, um. You came as a green person. Is that like, a reference to something?" Now that Galinda had said it, she realised the green makeup on their skin was really well applied. Like, expertly. There wasn't a bit of it on their black clothes or on the cup they were holding, and there were no gaps or discolouration.

"I didn't actually realise this was a costume party."

Galinda laughed her ass off. They'd said it so deadpanned, it was hilarious somehow. "You just painted yourself green for the aesthetic. I love it." She didn't really, she thought it was lazy, but at least the application was flawless. "That's seriously impressive though. It looks totally natural. I tried to get mine realistic, but you could teach me a few things I bet." She flashed her contoured shoulder.

"Wow. You did that?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty impressive."

Galinda blushed and grinned. "Thanks."

"Are you a makeup artist in the making?"

"Not really. I'm good with makeup just because I need to be."

"No? It looks like you'd be quite good. I have a couple of friends that are becoming makeup artists…" They were searching the crowd again.

"Did they do the green body paint on you?"

They looked back at Galinda with a grimace. "It's not-"

"Wait!" Galinda grabbed their wrist as she realised what was playing. "Oh my god! I love this song! We must dance." She pulled them into the crowd. They yelled something but Galinda couldn't hear them. She held them in a vice grip and moved to the music.

When she saw that they were just kind of watching her awkwardly, she brought their hands to her hips and grinned at them enthusiastically. "Dance with me!"

"I don't really dance."

"Everyone can dance in the club, babe. Come on." Galinda put an arm around their waist and danced against them. "Like me!" She went wild. When she refocused next they looked totally freaked out. She laughed. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

They were staring at her body. "I really have to find my friends," they called, finally looking back into her eyes. God, their eyes were black. Pitch black. And maybe it was because of the light, but their hair almost seemed purple. Not dark brown or true black like Munchkins', but a deep, deep purple.

She didn't want them to go. There was just something so interesting about them. "Please dance with me," she said, grinning helplessly. "I've wanted to dance all night, and if I don't have anyone to dance with I think I'll lose it."

They looked torn. They shook their head, as if exasperated. "We wouldn't want you to lose it, would we Barbie?" They started dancing. Kind of. It was a rhythmical swaying mostly, but it was enough.

Another song came on, but Galinda was already in her groove, barely acknowledging the music. Elphaba had loosened up a bit and had a hand on her hip, body rolling to the beat. They got down at a drop in the music, and Galinda cracked it, half collapsing against them. "And you said you can't dance, you fucking liar."

"I said I don't dance." They grinned down at her. They'd put in fake teeth, monstrously sharp. Were they dressed as a monster? It was subtle, and kind of attractive, which Galinda appreciated in a costume.

The music stopped suddenly. Galinda looked up at the DJ station as the dance floor erupted with confused, angry calls. Avaric was up there. Galinda blinked as he took up the mic. "I need Barbie to meet me at the dining table." He put down the mic and climbed out of the station.

Elphaba looked at her. "Does he mean Barbie as in you, or-"

"He sure does." Galinda took their hand and dragged them over to the table. As they made their way over, the next song started to play. Galinda laughed in sheer joy.

"This is not a dance remix of Barbie Girl," Elphaba said.

"This is a dance remix of Barbie Girl."

 

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Galinda made her way down to Shenshen's front yard. It was covered with the usual party trash and an unusual amount of ornate cutlery. The music still beat strong, but Galinda was tired and in pain, and sobering up fast.

Avaric was bringing his car around from the next block where he'd parked. Galinda wandered out over the lawn toward the street. She saw a little huddle of people under a tree. They were smoking and playing guitar, singing something folky. They glanced at her as she passed and she glanced back, and recognized one of them.

"Elphaba? Elphaba, right?"

They did a double take. The rest of the huddle looked between the both of them. The tall, green person muttered something to their friends and paced over to her. "Hey." They looked her over. "What are you doing out here? You look cold."

"I'm being picked up really soon," Galinda said, waving off an offered jacket. They put it around her shoulders anyway. It smelled like cigarettes and beer, but it was warm. She gave them a little smile. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just enjoying the beautiful weather," they said flatly, glancing at their friends. "We're waiting for our ride too. Need the van for our gear."

"Your gear?"

"We were playing before."

"Oh." Galinda blinked. Gear. Guitars. Leather jackets. Duh. "Oh! You were the band!"

"Yes. Milla is a friend of a friend of a friend, so…" They shrugged.

Galinda reviewed them under this new light. They had a bunch of piercings. Their nails were painted and their arms were black. They almost looked like tattoos, but why would they bother putting tattoos into green makeup? Unless they really loved their tattoos. They were fairly simple, at least.

"Galinda!"

Avaric was jogging over the lawn to her. He put his arm around her the second he was near enough and eyed Elphaba. He glanced down at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Galinda said, slightly puzzled. She shook off his arm and removed the jacket, and handed it back to Elphaba. "Thanks for the jacket. And the dance. You've got some moves."

Elphaba smiled, raised a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Anytime, Barbie."

"You're Fae?" Avaric asked.

"Yes," Elphaba replied stiffly.

He looked at them for a long moment. He made a face. "Shit… I thought the rumours weren't true. You're a real green dude? What the fuck, man?"

Elphaba grimaced. "Don't call me that."

"Green? You're green though, like…"

"Man. Don't call me man."

The huddle of people were all standing up and watching them now, their faces set grimly. Galinda looked between Elphaba and Avaric. "Wait… what?" Galinda blinked at Avaric. "Babe, it's makeup."

Avaric looked at her like she was stupid. She hated that look. "Um, no? Look at him. He's fucking green."

Galinda couldn't help laughing. "Green? It's a costume party. They're not actually green."

"He's fucking green. He's Fae the green dude. Have you not heard of him?"

"I'm not a guy," Elphaba said. Their voice was strong but their face was dark, their eyes cast to the ground.

Avaric looked them over. "You're a fucking guy, man."

"You'd better back off dude," one of the people from the huddle said, stepping out and into Avaric's space. He was a big Vinkan guy, covered in tattoos.

Galinda grabbed Avaric's arm. "Come on, let's just go."

"How about _you_ fucking back off-"

"Avaric," she said sharply. He looked at her. "Now."

His jaw worked, his eyes flicking between the huddle of people. He let her pull him off to his car.

"Was that person seriously green?" Galinda asked. "Like, actually?"

"Yes. He's like, an urban legend in Shiz. Green monster faggot punk singer. You've seriously never heard of him?"

She slipped into the passenger side and buckled herself in. He turned on the ignition and put the heater on. "Never."

He pulled out into the street and sped down the road. "My place, right?"

Galinda relaxed into the seat, watching the world pass by at a hundred kilometers an hour. "Sure."

"You danced with him?"

Galinda looked over at Avaric's profile. He was trying so hard to look indifferent. She rubbed his thigh. "Barely." He looked across at her. She smiled. "Feeling threatened by a freak?"

His mouth twitched. Then he smiled. "Nah."

Galinda wondered idly how tonight would play out. Avaric was usually agreeable after a good party, but an incident like that could make him insecure and eager to prove himself. It was a roll of the dice with Avaric. She tried to steer him in the right direction when she could.

Once they were at his place they guzzled water and relaxed. Galinda relieved herself of her bang-piece and tight ponytail. Avaric raked his hand through his stiff hair, sighing tiredly. "Wanna watch something?"

"I just want to get to bed, honestly."

He looked across at her. "Hope you're not too tired."

"I'm here, aren't I?" She smiled lopsidedly and he smiled back. He stood up to head for the stairs.

The moment of truth. How brave was Avaric feeling? Did they go up, or down?

He hesitated. He glanced at her. She tilted her head and looked at him a certain way, and hoped it didn't scare him. She saw the goosebumps breaking over his arms. She saw his eyes trail from hers to the floor and then to the stairs.

They went down. Galinda was privately relieved. As she descended the stairs, the second descent of the night, she slipped into character. This character was not dissimilar from the other. In one hand she held a perfect piece of meat and in the other she held a leash. It was Avaric whose role had changed.


	2. Black Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Black Me Out by Against Me.  
> Lyrics for the first 2 pages come from AGATHA's songs 'The Moon' and 'You Know You'. https://agatha206.bandcamp.com
> 
> Just a note that this chapter has nsfw content (at the end) and warning for self harm themes

 

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Elphaba was still riding on the energy of their set. They strode long, sweat cooling sharply over their skin. Their ears were still ringing, their throat still burning. Their friends walked with them, all as exuberant as each other.

"I need to get out of this bloody make up." They all echoed the sentiment.

The band headed for the nearest public toilets. That happened to be the train station a couple of blocks down from the venue. Train stations were fairly safe; they weren't very populated, and there were night guards there to stop trouble. Not that the police were necessarily on their side.

They'd all silently agreed on using the men's years ago. They knew what they'd look like coming out of the women's. Fiyero peered into the bathroom first. "Coast is clear."

"I'll whistle if anyone comes," Tibbett said. Their usual routine.

Elphaba stood in front of a bathroom mirror caked in translucent stains, silent and studious. Fiyero was beside them, wiping off his eyeliner. He glanced at them in the mirror. "Fae, please take out those contacts, they're freaking me out." Elphaba widened their eyes at him, sneering so their pointed teeth showed. The others chuckled while Fiyero pretended to startle.

"They weren't even in full spooky mode today," Crope said.

"Elphie does it very well. Maybe too well."

"I'm a monster," Elphaba said, peering at Fiyero. "Monstrous comes naturally."

"You're green, not a monster," he replied automatically. It was said frequently by their band, like a proverb or a chorus. Crope handed them the makeup wipes. They took out their contacts and stripped off their face within minutes.

This was stage face. If a stage face was a face that was made to be observed, to catch attention, then Elphaba's face was a stage face. Their makeup was nothing; eyeliner, mascara, a bit of black lipstick. Their bare face, green and angular and cast in shadows; _that_ was stage face. A face made to turn heads, always. A face that jutted forward as if daring the world to behold it or to look away. The makeup was almost a relief from this face. Like a circus freak putting on a dress or a bow or a distracting hat. A stage face made to be observed, in the least flattering way.

Elphaba ran their hand over the clipped hair at the back of their head. It'd need to be shaved again in a week or two. Their hair grew fast. They pulled their ponytail loose and went into a cubicle, and took their bra off under their shirt.

"I always get a bit hard when I'm on stage," Crope said from the next cubicle. She was only in the stall since it was a public bathroom; Elphaba had seen all of Crope's business several times over. They'd seen the entire band's whole business.

"When the blood's pumping…" Elphaba said ominously.

"Do you? You're the most active of all of us."

"I've no idea." Elphaba stepped into a pair of baggier jeans and reached down, untucking their cock with a grunt. "Oh. Yes, a bit."

"Want me to beat you off?"

They pulled on a big sweater and emerged. "You would love that, wouldn't you?"

"More than you can believe."

"You can beat me off," Fiyero said.

"But would _you_ beat _me_ off?" Crope countered.

"Considering I do it every night, in all of my dreams, I would say the answer is yes?"

"Fuck, let's get this orgy going. Pass me that baseball bat ladies, because I'm sufficiently lubed for the occasion."

"I object," Boq announced, redressed without anyone having noticed. "I wouldn't beat any of you off."

"You don't want to do anything to anyone, so you don't count. You're welcome to watch, of course."

"I'll politely decline."

They pushed out back into the train station proper. "I feel like the forming of our band was always leading to this," Crope said loudly. "An orgy, I mean. A good, proper one, that's filmed and kept for years to come, only to later destroy our extremely successful music careers."

"Sounds good," Tibbett said with no context, her arm curling about Crope's waist. "Could we get food first, my love?"

They caught a train further into town. Elphaba texted Sarima, who'd had a set earlier that night. Fiyero slumped against their shoulder. Fiyero reminded Elphaba of Lion; big, soft and maned. He was surprisingly graceful for his size, except when he was tired or drunk. He was both at the moment. "Who ya textin'," he asked Elphaba lazily.

"Sarima." There were various wooings and facial gestures from the band. Elphaba scowled at them. "Shut up."

"Is _Sarima_ meeting us tonight?" Tibbett drawled.

Elphaba grimaced. "Yes. Her and Apex Predator are at Trippy Taco."

"The whole band?" Fiyero asked. Elphaba nodded. "Sweet. I saw Carm in the crowd but I wasn't sure if he was hanging around…" Fiyero had started yawning mid sentence and almost fell off the seat stretching.

"He wanted to discuss the benefit. I think they're keen to play." Elphaba glanced at Crope. "Two of your three dream bands on the list."

"Seriously?" Crope asked, beaming. "Oh man. If Apex play I'm gonna fucking lose it."

"More like gain it. Gain them titties." Crope and Tibett snickered together, groping each other's chests. The benefit was to help Crope afford a doctor that could start her on hormone replacement therapy. She had no family support and barely made enough to live, so she needed it. Tibbett had tried to get her parents to help pay, but they'd refused. They had at least promised a decent guilt-driven donation.

The whole event was quite impressive to Elphaba; so far they'd lined up five performers, an abandoned shoe factory due to be destroyed a week or so after the date, and a local distillery to supply drinks, all for free. That was the power of Shiz's underground queer community, Elphaba supposed. It was a large but surprisingly connected force. If you knew the right person you could quickly find yourself introduced to just about the entire community, which was ever growing, and never lacking in diversity.

They got off a couple of stops over and strolled through downtown Shiz slowly, talking and laughing and holding each other. Elphaba walked a bit apart from them. They liked their space after a show. Ideally they would go home, bathe, and curl up with a book. Their band was rarely so forgiving. The rest of Shame Machine argued that Elphaba barely got out and needed the fresh air. Elphaba strongly disagreed, but they could at least have space, and food, and a clear night sky to look up at.

They entered Trippy Taco at almost midnight, glowing vivid green and blue on the Station strip. Sarima and the circle of Animals that were Apex Predator were piled around a table eating nachos and sipping Ixian beer.

Apex Predator had four members, none of which Elphaba had met. It was an almost impressive feat of avoidance; their bands had played together, but Elphaba had slipped away the moment their set had finished, and all the other times they could have interacted. It was just what Elphaba did.

The bands greeted each other jovially and dragged over another table. Elphaba sat between Crope and Fiyero and immediately began fiddling with the salt.

They glanced up to look at the menu and accidentally made eye contact with Carm. He was the lead singer of Apex Predator, a huge Crocodile that dressed like a psychedelic raver. He was the only one they remembered by name. Their drummer might have been named Jawa.

Carm grinned at Elphaba lazily. "Finally get to meet the infamous Fae." His speaking voice was as distinctive as his singing voice. It rolled from him, a deep and hollow sound, like the growl of a motorbike.

Elphaba gave him a short nod. "Carm."

"I love your voice, man."

"Thank you, I… like yours too. Has a real texture." They shifted on their seat. "I don't like being called man, by the way."

Carm made a casual facial twitch of acknowledgement. "Ay, noted." Carm gestured at them with his finger. "Noticed you weren't in your usual gear tonight. Well… 'usual gear'. It's pretty different each time. But you were lookin' surprisingly normal. Just had a lazy night, or…"

"Tibbett and I were late," Crope said from Elphaba's side. "We do all the makeup and costume design, so if we're not there to get them prepped it usually doesn't happen."

"Sorry, you're Crope, right?" Carm said, squinting and clearly a bit drunk.

"Yeah."

"Sick. We heard about the benefit you're planning. We'd be keen to play, you know."

"I'd be so stoked if you played! I seriously dig your shit."

"Sisters gotta stick together," another Apex member muttered from Carm's side, a hunched Dire Wolf covered in leather and silver and chains. She was the guitarist, if Elphaba remembered correctly. Her voice sounded like it'd been dragged across sandpaper. "I don't have too many human resourses from my own experience, but I can pass on some doctor names. You gotta get the doctor right, you know? They can be fucking stingy. They'll try their damn hardest to convince you you're a guy."

"I've heard. Tibbett, my girlfriend, had to lie about a bunch of shit to get her meds. Any advice would be super appreciated."

"You got a facebook? I'll message you some links." They pulled out their phones. Elphaba zoned out. Once a social situation went over six people, they couldn't quite handle it. They just didn't know how to navigate conversation with that many people. It inevitably split into two conversations, and if they were lucky they were already active in one of them. If they weren't, like now, they just sat in silence, waiting for it to be over. They were about to get up and order something when they realised the Dire Wolf was looking at them expectantly.

Elphaba blinked. "Sorry?"

The Wolf flashed her teeth. "Sorry to disturb you. I'm Garr. We never really got introduced."

"Ah. I apologise, I'm not very good at introductions." Elphaba almost broke the salt bottle in their hand distractedly, putting it down quickly when the lid made a particularly loud snapping noise. "I'm Fae. Elphaba. Call me Elphaba."

Garr barked out a laugh. "No fucking shit. Don't think anyone could mistake you, kid."

Elphaba sat in silence at that. Garr got a look from Carm. "Was that rude?" She asked.

"You're just stating the truth," Elphaba said stiffly. They rubbed their clammy hands on their jeans and stood up from the table. "I'm gonna get some food," they murmured to Crope.

"Should I-?" She started to stand up.

"I'll be fine." Elphaba hurried over to the drink fridge by the counter and proceeded to take an age choosing something. They considered getting a beer to help them relax, though they'd never managed to actually become intoxicated. They'd just have to conjure up some nonexistent social skills.

"Hey." Elphaba moved back instinctively when they realised Sarima had come up right next to them.

"Sarima. Hey." She smiled up at Elphaba, her eyes ice-blue in the fluro lighting. She was intimidatingly pretty, as usual.

"Pick one yet?" she asked.

"What?"

"A drink."

"Oh." Elphaba perused the fridge again. "No."

Sarima pulled out two bottles of a beer Elphaba hadn't seen before. "Here," she said, and flashed a smile. "My favourite." She bought them both and tried to open them with her keys. She kept fumbling. "Stupid condensation," she muttered, wedging one under her arm.

"Give them here." She handed one to Elphaba, who grabbed it with their shirt. They cracked it open with their teeth. Sarima gaped.

"That doesn't fuck up your mouth?"

"I've been doing it since I had them and they've never chipped or anything."

"I'll keep that in mind next time we're both at a party," Sarima said with a grin, taking back her drink. "Thanks for the assist." She rubbed Elphaba's arm as she passed by them, her fingers trailing over their shoulder. Elphaba took a draw of the beer and got all foam. They went to the counter to order a tofu burrito.

Apex left pretty soon after that out of sheer exhaustion. A string of late gigs caught up to you by the end of the week. With just the band and Sarima there, Elphaba relaxed considerably. This was the start of the actual post-show decompression. Their food came out and they got to work on the huge burrito in front of them.

"So how about that weird party yesterday?" Tibbett said, rubbing Crope's shoulders distractedly. Crope had her face in her arms, folded over the table in front of her.

"Real weird," she agreed, muffled by her arms.

“What party was this?” Sarima asked.

“We played at Milla’s birthday last night,” Tibbett said, frowning slightly at Sarima. “You weren’t there?”

“I was busy. I think I saw the facebook event, but…”

“It was a house party in a huge mansion. No idea how she got the place. But everyone there were queer punks, except these random preps that kept popping up?”

“And they were like, _very_ preppy,” Fiyero said. “Like private-school-owns-a-boat preppy.”

“One of the preps even talked to Fae,” Crope said, rearing her head to eye Elphaba with a little grin. “Called them by their name. Who was that, Elphie? The hot blonde that you gave your jacket.”

Elphaba narrowed their eyes at Crope. “No one.”

“You two did look pretty chummy,” Fiyero said. Sarima grimaced, probably feeling out of the loop. “Her boyfriend was a total asshole, though. Surprised you didn’t punch his lights out to be honest.”

“So was I,” Elphaba muttered. “Not that I needed to worry with you, the world's most courageous pacifist on my side.”

Fiyero shrugged. “I just flash my tattoos and their racist shit does all the work.”

“Seriously Fae, didn’t she say something about you _dancing_?” Tibbett said, Crope nodding along.

Elphaba sighed. “I was basically forced into it.”

“And were you forced into flirting with her in the front yard, or…?”

Elphaba put their drink down on the table, looking at Crope and Tibbett coldly. “We weren’t flirting. Drop it.” It muted their band into awkward silence.

Sarima was obviously confused, but she broke the tension. “Um, the preps were probably there because Milla’s a prefect of Crage Hall.” Everyone, grateful for the topic change, made their own little noises of comprehension.

“How do you know Milla?” Boq asked. “I know her from the zine circuit.”

“She’s a Kumbric sister.” A Kumbric sister was a member of a Kumbrica Coven, pagan groups that worshipped Kumbrica and the Kumbric witches of old. Sarima, as well as Crope and Tibbett were part of a local coven they’d started with a close circle of friends a year or so ago.

“Really? Why’s she going to Crage Hall?”

“From what I understand she didn’t have much of a choice.”

"I feel bad for her then," Elphaba said. "I get second hand stories from Nessa about Crage Hall. It sounds awful."

"It's a school that teaches you to be popular," Crope drawled, bent over the table again. "All of those colleges are bullshit."

"But Crage Hall is the _most_ bullshit," Boq said sagely.

"Why's that?"

"Because it's not just a school about how to be popular." He leaned forward on his arm, his face cradled tiredly in his hand. "It's a school about how to get married."

Marriage was a loaded subject for most of them. Fiyero glanced around the group curiously. Sarima looked at Elphaba, her face studiously blank. Elphaba scowled, and muttered, "Marriage lessons. Great."

"Perhaps we have more in common with them than we thought," Fiyero said.

"Why do you think Nessa is going to that school?" Boq asked. "It's well beyond their means. Your dad-" This was directed at Elphaba, "- knows what he's doing."

"He needs one of us to have children," Elphaba remarked. "Carry on the family lineage."

"You're not planning to marry, Fae?" Fiyero asked.

Elphaba glared at him. He stared back impassively. "After how we were raised?" Elphaba asked him quietly. "How could I?"

"I don't know. I think cult kids like us tend to go three ways. Either we resent it, are indifferent, or embrace it, regardless of faith."

"Which are you?" Tibbett asked.

"I'm indifferent," Fiyero said. "I can see myself getting married, but I'd never do it through the matching. They'd have to be cool with the whole poly thing."

"I don't think any of us would go through the matching," Elphaba said.

"I would." Everyone looked at Boq. Boq blinked back, nervous. "I wouldn't mind it," he said. "An arranged marriage."

"You're kidding," Elphaba said.

"Is it really so strange?"

"From an outsider's view," Crope piped up, "I can tell you that it is pretty strange. This whole cult marriage thing. It's weird, right?"

"It's weird," Tibbett agreed.

"Well, it's not weird to me," Boq said, approaching defensive. "It's how I was raised."

"Why do you defend them?" Elphaba asked. "It's strange. You _know_ it's strange."

"Perhaps I'm not as resentful as you."

"I have good reason. You realise they want you to have sex, right? Lineage, it's all about lineage. If you can't get some poor stranger pregnant you're still going to hell."

Boq grimaced. "I know. I suppose I'm still deciding how to break my parents heart." He looked to Sarima before Elphaba could respond. "How about you, Sari?"

Sarima shrugged her shoulders. "I'm like Fiyero. I would marry someone." Sarima cleared her throat, glancing at Elphaba briefly. "If they were the right person."

Elphaba eyes dropped to the table, a strange nausea rolling through them.

When it hit two in the morning, Trippy Taco was closing and it was time to head home. Sarima and Elphaba took the same train. They parted ways with the rest of the band at Central station and got on the Watergardens line together.

Elphaba felt simultaneously scared and excited to be alone with Sarima. They'd never really been close growing up. Elphaba had been considered a boy, and in the community they'd been raised in boys and girls had not mixed easily. They'd only gotten to know each other over the last year, but it'd been easy; there was something about being born into a cult that bonded people. The conversation was always interesting and immediately personal. Perhaps it was helped by how forthcoming a person Sarima was. She was refreshing, if a bit intimidating.

Over the last few months Elphaba had developed what they could only call a crush. They were loath to admit it. They were uncomfortable with the idea of any romantic inclinations. There was something deep within them that rejected the idea of love. Perhaps because of how it had been preached to them all their life. They had been brought up on the concept of love as energy, a spiritual force, a manifestation of God.

If Elphaba hated anything, Elphaba hated God.

"Did you dress up at your show tonight?" Sarima asked.

"No," Elphaba said, fiddling with a plastic wrapper they'd found in their pocket and not looking at her. "Just a bit of make up. I would prefer to go out in costume every time, but it depends on how early we get to the venue. And if Crope and Tibbett are up to it. They do most of the work."

"They're good at what they do."

"They get me looking pretty scary," Elphaba agreed, staring out the black train windows.

"They get you looking pretty hot."

Elphaba looked at Sarima. "If you're into white eyes and torn up clothes, sure."

"You pull off the look..." Elphaba laughed shortly, looked back out the window. "You don't think you pull it off?" Sarima asked.

"It's not meant to be pulled off. It's a - I'm going to sound like a tool saying this, but it's a performance. A statement. There's nothing attractive about it."

Sarima looked at them closely. "It's not necessarily the outfit," Sarima agreed.

"Perhaps it is," Elphaba said. "What else would it be, if you really find it alluring somehow." Sarima looked like she was about to respond, but Elphaba wasn't enjoying the subject. "How'd your gig go?" they asked.

"It was okay," Sarima said unsurely. "There was some drama with the keyboard, as usual, so… it was basically acapella. Not my best set."

"I'm sure it was fine. You can sing a church hall down with nothing but a clapping congregation as back up. If you can sing there, you can sing through a gig."

Sarima smiled, her eyebrow arching. "So can you."

"I'm more of a screamer."

"I've heard that about you," Sarima said coyly. Elphaba scoffed. "You're not screaming when you're singing hymns like an angel."

"I should bust one out at a gig sometime. I bet our crowd would love it."

"Dress as an ironically kinky priest and I'm sure they will."

Elphaba laughed. "Oh, that's a good idea! A creepy priest outfit. I'll pitch it to the girls."

"I'm sure they'll have a field day." Sarima bumped her arm against Elphaba's. "We still need to do a set together or something. Maybe we could do a partner performance."

"We'd be keen for you to sing with us. Boq is dying to do some synthpunk again."

"You're starving him, huh?"

"Afraid so. We've got him locked in folk punk rock hell. He's fading. He needs you, Sarima."

She shook her head, grinning. "Alright. For Boq." She peered up at Elphaba. "You don't mind sharing the stage with me?"

Elphaba shrugged a shoulder. "You can take centre for all I care."

"Take centre? From Fae, the most infamous performance artist in the Shiz area? I couldn't."

"God. Please never call me that again."

Sarima laughed softly. They fell into comfortable silence. Elphaba studied Sarima as she gazed off, deep in thought. She had a face that looked very different in profile. Still beautiful, of course; Elphaba could not imagine a version of Sarima that was not big-eyed and symmetrical.

Elphaba found themself looking at Sarima often. They looked at her wrists, her long neck, the lines and angles of her alarmingly thin legs. They were not sure why they looked at her like this. Their friends read it as attraction, Elphaba supposed. They certainly teased Elphaba enough over it.

There was an element of yearning to it, but to what end, they could not identify.

"Elphaba," Sarima said suddenly.

Elphaba blinked, refocusing to meet Sarima's eyes. "Yes?"

"Why are you a performance artist?"

Elphaba thought about that for a long moment. "It's something to do," they said eventually. "Why do you ask?"

"You don't seem like much of a performer," Sarima said, never one for delicacy. "You're pretty shy. Actually, that's wrong - it's more like you actively hate attention of any kind. And yet you do what you do on stage."

"That's true," Elphaba mused. "Perhaps I would be more self conscious were I trying to garner sympathy or appreciation, or garner anything, but that's never been the point." Elphaba leaned forward in their seat, and Sarima leaned forward with them intently. "I don't try to win people over. I just use what people already feel for me. Hate, fear, disgust, confusion… desire. I'm going to get it anyway, so why not put it to some good?"

"You acknowledge you're desireable, then."

"Anything is desirable. People have fetishes for spiders. People fuck their cars. Of course I'm desireable to some. I just know it's unusual."

Sarima made a kind of frowning smile. "I have to disagree."

"You aren't the one living this experience, I'm afraid."

Sarima made a considering face. "True. Either way, if your intent was to disgust or alienate people, you're not doing a very good job. You're more loved than reviled."

"Loved is a strong word. Anyone that stands out in a community is bound to be talked about. I think I'm loved in the same way a local kook is loved," Elphaba said with a jovial little smile. "I'm a quirky blemish to give it character."

"You don't like yourself very much, do you?" Sarima asked. Elphaba looked at her sharply, caught off guard. "Sorry," she said quickly, embarrassed. "I have no filter."

Elphaba shrugged their shoulder. "Neither do I."

They got off at the same station, though the next was technically closer to Elphaba's place. "I'll walk you home," Elphaba said briskly, already heading out of the station.

"You don't have to-"

"Nonsense."

"You can crash at mine if you want."

It was late, and very cold, their breath trailing them as they wove through the laneways of Oakleigh. "I might," Elphaba said noncommittally.

They reached Sarima's share house. She got the key from a slot inside the power box by the front door. She stepped into the front hall, and Elphaba hesitated at the doorstep, glancing back out at the street. Sarima leaned against the door. "You're welcome to stay over, really."

"I'm debating."

"How about a cup of tea at least? It's freezing."

Elphaba bounced on their heels from the cold, glancing at the street again. They smiled at Sarima gingerly. "A cup of tea. Sure." They followed her into the lounge room.

"Black tea with milk?"

"Please. Ah, the milk…"

"Soymilk," Sarima reassured them, peering around the wall of the kitchen. "Everyone living here is vegan."

"Thanks." They sank into the couch. It was old, orange, and covered in patterned pillows that smelled like incense. Sarima perched on its arm, waiting while the kettle boiled. Elphaba tried to think of something to say before things got awkward. They spotted a painted portrait of Kumbrica hanging over the mantelpiece. "Is that yours?" Elphaba asked.

Sarima glanced at it, smiling. "Yes. It was painted by another witch, Thomasina."

"Are either of your roommates witches?"

"No."  
  
"Do they know about it?"  
  
"Yeah. I think they find it all a bit silly. Or just weird. I suppose I can't blame them; from the outside it looks like we're just sitting in circles and playing pretend."

"That's what most spiritual rituals look like," Elphaba said stiffly, "you're hardly alone in that."

"Yes. They don't know what's behind all the circle sitting. The sisterhood within our coven."

"The faith too I suppose," Elphaba said, their wariness just masked enough that Sarima didn't noticed or didn't care.

"They are one in the same as far as I'm concerned." Elphaba looked at her quizzically. "We're not a religion."

"Rituals, rules, belief in a higher power… seems pretty religious to me."

"We don't expect witches to have an absolute belief in Kumbrica, and we don't have absolute rules either. All of our values are common sense. Honestly, most of us have different opinions about God and creation, but it's just not about that."

"Does that mean there are people within your coven - you yourself, even - that acknowledge that Kumbrica may not have existed? Or that she may not linger here, and has no real influence on the world?"

"I cannot speak for everyone, they have their own ways of looking at Kumbrica," Sarima said. "As for myself… it depends how you frame the question. Kumbrica's existence aside, our worship of Kumbrica improves our connection as a coven, and therefore improves our lives. In that way, real or not, she has influenced the world. Right?"

"I suppose. But I meant the truth - the scientific truth. Is Kumbrica real, or not?"

"Does it matter?" Sarima asked.

Elphaba blinked. "Does it matter? Of course it matters. Perhaps Kumbrica worship is improving your life, but doesn't that improvement coming from a place of ignorance undermine it somewhat?"

"You'd rather be right than be happy?" Sarima asked, not as a defense but out of genuine interest. She was observing them carefully.

"I would rather be both. It may not be the case for you, but my happiness relies on the truth."

"Why?"

Elphaba felt a bit caught by her eyes, unable to look away. "Curiosity demands satisfaction," they said.

Sarima smiled, and the quality of it made Elphaba's stomach jump. "You are a very curious person."

Elphaba looked away, clearing their throat. "I am." Sarima shifted, sniffled or something.

"You know, our coven are meeting next weekend for a story sharing night. That includes lyrics and poetry. Crope and Tibbett will be there too." Sarima glanced at them briefly. "You should join us."

"I'm afraid I don't do very well in anything that centres around worship."

"That's understandable…" Sarima trailed off at the sound of boiling water and a clicking switch. She went off into the kitchen. "Now, black with milk, right?"

"Yes."

"Sugar?"

"No."

"How much soymilk?"

"Just a bit. I like it to still taste like tea."

Sarima peered out at them with an arched brow. "Are you implying I don't infuse my tea?"

"No, but I've been burned before. My father and sister love their milky hot water."

Sarima laughed from behind the barrier. "Should I leave your teabag in?"

"Yes please." Elphaba stood up and trailed into the kitchen, since it felt awkward to sit out of sight with nothing to do. They glanced around the kitchen. It was appropriate to the area, dangled with dream catchers and random strips of colourful fabric. The scent of past-burnt incense and weed hung about. Dried herbs were strung over the stovetop. They had an impressive rack of spices, fresh - and not so fresh - roots of ginger and turmeric, a boat of Vinkan bread folded up by the toaster, next to the jars of chutneys and butters.

"How many housemates do you have here?" they asked.

"Two. One is a fiddler, she's probably at her boyfriend's place. The other is asleep. You can sleep in my room."

Elphaba shifted. "I can sleep on the couch. If I stay over."

"It gets really cold in the mornings," Sarima said. "It's fine. I have the biggest room in this place, it won't be a tight fit or anything."

Sarima handed them their cup of tea. They sipped it carefully, then cleared their throat. "I think I'll just finish this and go home. I have things to do tomorrow morning…" Sarima looked away, clearly disappointed. "I'm sorry."

"You sure you want to go back this late? I can call you an uber-"

"Nonsense," Elphaba said firmly. "I'll be fine."

They sat on the couch with a tin of vegan oatmeal biscuits made by the fiddler roommate. Sarima leaned forward on her knees with her cup between her palms, looking at Elphaba mildly. "Why don't you want to stay over?"

"Frankly, I'm just not sure it's the best idea," Elphaba said, sounding much less anxious than they were feeling.

"Do you think something will happen?" Elphaba exhaled shortly. "You do," Sarima said, something picking up in her voice.

They placed their cup on the table. "I need to go home, Sarima..."

"Elphaba." Sarima's hand rested on their forearm, her fingers brushing the inside of their arm and the thin, sensitive skin of their wrist. Their skin goosebumped, hairs standing on end. They peered at Sarima unsurely, feeling acutely sick to their stomach again. Sarima studied them, her eyebrows in a gentle furrow. "... Don't you want me?"

They stood abruptly, dislodging Sarima's hand. "I'm going home."

They went down the hall, Sarima following them quickly. "Wait! Elphaba, _wait_." They stopped at the door because Sarima sounded like she was about to cry. They looked at her.

"I'll see you at the next show?" Sarima asked, hopeful and scared.

"Of course," Elphaba said. "Thank you for the tea."

"You didn't have much."

"It warmed me up."

Sarima shifted, her arms folding as Elphaba opened the door. "Goodnight," she said quietly.

"Night."

Elphaba walked briskly through the cold, their body burning.

...

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	3. Poses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Poses by Rufus Wainwright.  
> This chapter has very nsfw content with bdsm themes! so we're all in the know with whats goin down ...

Galinda had been given the job of distributing the upcoming semester's athletic event schedules to the various sports teams within their school.

Galinda often felt more like Morrible’s errand runner than Head Girl of Crage Hall, which she had not expected. Morrible had sent her on a number of unreasonable jobs, such as buying biscuits for the visitors lounge or walking her through painfully simple tasks on her laptop, during which she suffered an offensive level of berating millennials. Galinda knew not to complain; Morrible had the authority to make her do worse, and she’d happily lecture Galinda about her dedication - yet again - if she dared refuse. 

It was a fast job, at least. Athletics weren't exactly the top priority of a women's Society college. She had to visit the netball team, the soccer team, the swimming team, the tennis club and the cheerleaders. Galinda held onto the tennis club's since she was a captain herself. She went to the swimmers first, catching them in the locker room before training and chatting up the student coach. She tried to recruit Galinda every time they talked. Galinda may have agreed if she weren't already so busy.

She left the cheerleaders for last. She had been half heartedly avoiding Milla ever since the party. She knocked Galinda off kilter somehow. Besides, her whole team seemed to have it out for Galinda.

They were on the oval doing post-practice stretches when Galinda approached. Milla saw her first. She turned to her team and clapped loudly. "People! Up and at 'em. Our Empress approaches." The cheerleaders all jumped to their feet, bowing comically low.

Galinda plastered on a sardonic grin. "Milla. Ladies. No need to interrupt your practice," Galinda said to Milla, handing her the cheerleading packet. "Just delivering next semester's event schedule."

Milla took it. "Thank you. Surprised you're the one handing these out. They didn't have any other, lesser prefects available?"

"Apparently not," Galinda said, somewhat exasperated. "Head Girl is hardly as glamorous as it may sound."

"Glamorous," Milla repeated, clearly amused. "Is that why you took the position?"

"I was picked by Morrible," Galinda said a tad defensively, if she had to admit it. "Just like you?"

"We were given a choice."

"And I chose to say yes because I knew I would do a good job. So here we are, you with your schedule, me with a million other things to do." Galinda shifted. "Why'd _you_ agree to be a prefect?"

"For my team of course. I knew having a prefect captain would come with benefits."

"And what benefits are those?"

Milla sighed, glancing out over the field. "Still looking for them, to be honest. Anyway, I'd better let you go. A million things to do, right?"

"Right."

"By the way," Milla started quietly. "In the future, please don't presume the gender identities of my team by calling them ladies. We have several nonbinary people within our ranks."

Galinda stared at her blankly. "Right," Galinda said quickly when Milla looked as if she were going to explain. She would rather not stick around. "I'll keep that in mind. You're coming to the prefects meeting, right?"

"I am a prefect," Milla said vaguely. "Have a good day, princess."

Their prefect meeting started at four-thirty. Pfannee was sitting in the prefects lounge when Galinda arrived, flicking through a plastic binder. She perked up as she noticed Galinda through the windows and greeted her at the door. "Hey. I just put the kettle on for coffee. Interested?"

"Always," Galinda sighed, collapsing into a chair as Pfannee went to the kitchenette. "Do we have anything big on the itinerary today?"

"Not really. The only thing we need to discuss is the sports day at Ozma Towers."

"Right, right…"

"Have you talked to Avaric about it at all?"

"I haven't," Galinda admitted, rubbing her temple. "I'll bring it up tonight."

"Got a date?"

Galinda looked at Pfannee, who was focused on the coffee-making. "Maybe. He's picking me up after this. We might just stay in, you know?"

"I guess," Pfannee said, placing a cup in front of her. "My last boyfriend was my first, and we never 'stayed in'. Didn't get to that point."

"Are you looking for a boyfriend?" Galinda already knew the answer. Pfannee had a pastime of pining after young men. She was a surprisingly romantic person, considering how ambitious she was. She wanted to be whisked away and married to someone strong and tall and richer than her.

"I am…" They looked at the door as Milla arrived, a school duffle bag over her shoulder. She dumped it on the floor and fell into the seat next to Galinda.

"Sorry, team meeting ran late." She glanced between them. "What are we discussing?"

"Pfannee wants a boy," Galinda said. Pfannee gave her a betrayed look. "What? You do."

"I'm not desperate," Pfannee defended. "I'm just keeping an eye open."

"What about Brannon? You danced with him at Milla's party, right?"

"I think he's more into Shenshen. Besides, he's kind of a loser, right? What does he do? Smoke weed and wax his hair to get it as vertical as possible? He doesn't even have his learners. Twenty one, and he can't drive. I'm dating a guy that drives."

"Who was that guy with the glasses then?"

"Derwit?"

Milla laughed outright. "Can't wait to hear about Derwit."

"He's cute," Pfannee said unsurely. "I don't know. He didn't want to pee outside because it was 'too cold'. Like… really? I mean, I hate to put it like this, but be a man, you know? It's just cold. I don't want a guy like that."

"What _do_ you want from a man, Pfannee?" Milla drawled. Pfannee cut her eyes at Milla.

"I just want a dependable man," she said stiffly. "I'm independent and I have my own plans, but I want a useful guy."

"You want him to be strong and good with cars?"

"Well - yes. I wouldn't be opposed."

"With a square jaw and a perfect body, and bedroom eyes. Willing to get violent in your defense, cool as a cucumber, but also unexpectedly good with kids." Milla looked at Pfannee. Pfannee glared back, red-faced.

"Is that bad? Am I a bad woman for wanting that?"

"No. You're just painfully straight." Pfannee scoffed as Milla's head rolled over the back of the seat, her eyes meeting Galinda's. "How about you, princess? What's your perfect man?"

"Galinda has Avaric," Pfannee said. "You don't need to consider what you want when you have it already." Galinda felt Milla's eyes on her face, studying her too close for comfort.

Shenshen finally arrived, laughing and grinning and apologizing all at once. They got the meeting underway.

The only thing they had to talk about was the sports day. It was happening in about two months time. Galinda would be hosting the opening ceremony, as well as taking on other roles throughout the day, she hadn't been given the details yet. The prefects would be working as volunteers with the staff. It was one of many student exchanges that happened every year between Crage Hall and Ozma Towers.

Avaric, as Head Boy, would be hosting with her. "He'll be here at six, so I'll talk to him about it then," Galinda said as she texted Avaric that they were done. Shenshen and Pfannee hung half out the door.

"Alright. We've gotta go catch this bus, so." Galinda waved them off.

Milla remained draped over four chairs she had shuffled to sit in a row, soaking in the last of the day's sunlight through the window. "Just you and I, princess," she said lazily.

"You're not going home?"

"I'm not in any rush." She peered up at Galinda. "Hey, I was wondering. You had no idea what I meant when I said nonbinary before, did you?"

Galinda sighed and slid her phone into her pocket. At least they were in private now. "No, I didn't."

"It's a gender identity that isn't man or woman," Milla said. "Because man and woman are a binary, like black and white. So people that aren't either are nonbinary."

"Oh," Galinda said, understanding on a shallow level and unwilling to ask further. "That's interesting. Are there, um, a lot of students that are like that?"

"In my team there are quite a few. I suspect this has become a haven of sorts, since the school never approved or provided an LGBT space."

"Ah."

"And at that party last week? Lots of nonbinary people. The band playing were like, all trans people."

"Oh?" Galinda folded her legs casually, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. "That was Elphaba's band, right?"

Milla squirmed around to look at her properly, her eyes wide. "You know Elphaba?"

"Yeah, we talked a bit. Danced together."

"You _danced with Fae_?" Milla asked in awe. "I was just honoured to have them perform, and you fricken danced with them?"

"You're a die-hard fan of theirs, huh?"

"Yeah, I am," Milla said gingerly. "Most of queer Shiz is a fan of Shame Machine."

"So they're a local band?"

"Yeah. They're like… maybe Shiz's most infamous band. Mostly because of Fae." Milla sat up to face her properly, her legs folded up under her. It struck Galinda as surprisingly cute - she put the thought aside quickly. "They're kind of an urban cryptid," Milla went on. "You only see them at shows. Sometimes parties, but even that's rare. They're super private." Milla rolled her eyes. "And green, obviously. Get a lot of attention wherever they go."

"I see. I got the impression they weren't very popular."

"From who?"

"Avaric."

Milla became cold. "Ah. The Prince of Ozma Towers. He didn't meet them, did he?"

"He did."

“Hm. And how’d he act?” Milla asked, like she already knew the answer.

Galinda hesitated. "He… he was very rude."

Milla squinted at Galinda. "How rude?"

"He called them a -" Galinda sighed shortly. "A green monster faggot punk singer," she repeated quietly.

Milla looked like she could kill someone. "That fucking asshole! And at _my party_ , where they agreed to play for cheap. That's fucked."

"I know," Galinda agreed, sheepish from embarrassment.

"Why are you dating that guy, Galinda? I mean, you're not perfect, but you're at least smarter than that."

Galinda released a kind of disbelieving scoff. "Don't jump on me about his opinion."

"Those opinions are coming from someone _you're_ in love with."

She resented the reasoning and the presumption. "Well I apologise," she managed, "But the subject of androgynous green punk singers has never come up between us before." Galinda collected herself and gave Milla a firm look. "I don't endorse what Avaric said, and I don't appreciate being made to feel I'm responsible for him. His opinions aren't automatically my own."

"I wasn't trying to do that," Milla said, a touch apologetic. "At least you don't agree."

"Of course I don't. Elphaba seemed… interesting." Fascinating, in fact, though certainly strange. Galinda didn't know what it was about them.

"Understatement of the decade. Fae is sick. They're smart, they're creative, they're talented, and they're sexy as hell. I would eat them with a fucking spoon." Milla sighed almost dreamily. "And they're _so_ tall."

Galinda eyed her unsurely. "I'm a bit surprised you're attracted to them. You usually go for the petite hipster type."

"Been paying attention, have you?" Galinda fumbled for some kind of response, but Milla wasn't expecting one. "I don't really have a type. And I don't think there's anyone that can resist Fae. You ever find yourself in a place like the Reverence Hotel or the Wranglr, check the bathrooms. You'll find all kinds of messages on the walls to Fae. To and about them."

"I'll… keep that in mind, I guess." She doubted she'd ever find herself in such a venue.

"Fae is nonbinary too, by the way. Plenty of people aren't so easy to categorize." Milla leaned forward on her folded legs and looked at Galinda seriously. "As Head Girl, you might want to look into LGBT matters. Get educated. For the sake of the student body, you know?"

"I'll think about it," she said quietly.

"Uh oh. Looks like your dickhead fucktoy is here," Milla muttered, watching Avaric's sports car pull up in front of the building. "I've wondered, how is he in the sack? I get the vibe he'd be kind of selfish. Like, he comes before you and then is all, 'babe, just do it yourself, babe, I don't wanna eat you out, my dicks just been in there and thats gay.'"

Galinda couldn't resist grinning at Milla's terrible impression of Avaric as she packed up her bag. She smothered it and looked at Milla with a tight smile. "You want to know the truth?"

Milla's eyebrows perked. "I would love to."

"We're actually quite compatible in bed." And that, at least, was true. Usually.

Milla scoffed as Galinda stood up, slinging her bag on her back. "I don't believe you for a second, princess."

"To assume makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'."

Milla stuck her tongue out at her. "See you tomorrow."

Galinda had been slightly disingenuous, implying an ignorance regarding the LGBT community. She had always been attracted to women, at least enough to research the matter. She knew the different acronyms, had what she assumed was an okay understanding of transgender matters, though she hadn't heard of nonbinary people. She hadn't looked _that_ deep.

Her research had consisted of movies and porn. Porn had been her first exploration, in fact. Galinda loved pornography. She couldn’t help it. There was something about the format that spoke to her, the watching and the exposure and the performance of it all. Lesbian porn was a bit boring to her, but it was better than straight porn - that had always made her very uncomfortable. She had hit a sweet spot in gay porn and the content actually made for women.

The best porn, however, was home made. She was lucky Avaric was as willing as her to be on camera. He basked in it really, just like she did, and because he basked in it he was good at it. Galinda was pretty keen to make something with another woman someday, if only for the experience. She didn’t exactly get to explore herself with Avaric, or not as much as she wanted to. Not that she’d tell him as much.

Avaric leaned over and opened the door to his car for Galinda as she walked up. She slid into the seat and smiled at him across the console. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, grinning back. "Good day?"

"It was alright," Galinda sighed, buckling in her seat belt. "How about you?"

"Good." He gestured to the drink holder between them. "Got you some coconut water."

"What's this for?" she asked, pleasantly surprised.

He peered out the windows as he navigated the narrow campus roads, squinting from the sunlight. "I just know you like it."

He seemed to be in a good mood. She smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Thanks babe." She cracked open the coconut water and took a sip. It wasn't the brand she liked, but she appreciated the effort. "Ah, we had a prefect meeting today about the sports day at Ozma Towers…"

"Already?" Avaric asked, his eyebrows quirked. "It's like, a month away."

"I don't even know what I'm expected to do."

"Stand around and look hot basically."

She rolled her eyes. "What I'm expected to do by the _staff_."

"You're a host officially, and that's what you'll be directed on, but really you're there to encourage the guys. Make them wanna show off. It gives everything a more competitive edge."

"I see," Galinda said, a bit put off. God knows they would never have the reverse arrangement. Having Ozma Towers watch their sports day would be the opposite of an encouragement.

"It's a tradition. The guys are excited whenever Crage Hall get involved in an event, especially the Head Girl." He paused. "Especially you."

"Yes, I know, I'm popular there."

" _Very_ popular," he said.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You sound weirdly proud of that."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Galinda regarded him in slight disbelief. "Have you seen yourself when someone else flirts with me?"

"Well," he floundered, and thought over it for a bit. "Well, it's a bit like your favourite watch, isn't it? You like to show it off and make everyone jealous, but that doesn't mean they get to put it on."

Galinda flushed angrily at the comparison, though she supposed she accessorised with Avaric just as frequently, like she had at Milla's party. "Will you be competing on the day?"

"Not really," he said. "I'll still be training for it. I'm not expected to participate since I'll mostly be a leader, but I need to do well when I do compete."

"Makes sense." She glanced at him. "Head Boy or not, I expect your shorts to be extra tiny. Show off that ass."

Avaric didn't become uncomfortable as she'd expected - she was trying to get back at him a bit - but instead flushed and laughed. "Alright," he said after a moment. "Maybe you could pick out what I wear…"

So he was in _that_ kind of mood. Galinda side eyed him. "I assume a collar is out of the question."

"I'm afraid so."

She sighed dramatically. "Shame. We'll have to go with the butt plug." He almost swerved into the other lane.

They pulled up to Avaric's house. It was a huge white and grey building, a mansion as obnoxiously contemporary as its neighbours. Galinda supposed she had no right judging the building when her own family had one very similar in Shiz, but she hated that house too, and held both of them - and every other mansion - up against their property back in Frottica. That building was the heirloom of their clan, her birthplace, and the birthplace of her mother, and of her mother before her, going hundreds of years back. The Tenmeadow clan's building, just as grand, was in Brox Hall. These soulless husks in Shiz were shadows of buildings such as those.

"Did you want a lift home?" Avaric asked.

Galinda looked from the house to him. "Are you up to anything tonight?"

"No."

"I'll stay over then." He only acted so reserved when he wanted her to spend the night. Despite being the arrogant young man he was, he could never be forward about sex. Not the sex he really wanted, anyway. It was the contradiction within him. It was like looking at two different people at once, sitting in his big fast car with his big strong arms slung about, unable to ask if she'd like to fuck him. She would make it easy for him. She opened the door and slipped out of the car, walking to the front door and leaving him to catch up.

"I'm going to have a shower," Galinda said, climbing the stairs to his room.

"Should I…?" He paused at the base of the stairs, looking at the basement.

"We have the whole night."

"Alright." He followed her up. "What do you want for dinner?"

"What's in the fridge?"

"Not much. I've been ordering in most of my meals."

"I feel like pasta," Galinda said, pulling off her shirt as she paced into Avaric's ensuite.

"There's this restaurant that does a great lobster linguine."

"Sounds perfect," she said, glancing back to find him watching her. She smiled and shut the door.

Out of his sight she sighed silently, and leaned forward on the bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror.

Galinda wondered if every girl felt like this in a relationship. Even on good days like these, there was something taxing about being with Avaric. It wasn't a lack of attraction; Avaric was as beautiful and statuesque as he had always been. It wasn't that they didn't get along, either; her and Avaric often felt like such similar people it was disarming, like they were a boy and girl version of the same human prototype. It wasn't sex.

The problem, she suspected, was that she could not define what he was to her.

There was something wrong with saying they were in love. They were not in love and they had never claimed to be, never having exchanged the words. Avaric was more and less than a friend, only technically something as juvenile as a boyfriend. Perhaps boyfriend was the closest term for it.

The other problem, perhaps, was that she couldn't understand why they were in a relationship.

Neither of these issues were quite enough to break up, though. It would upset too many people, parents, teachers, friends. The web of their social lives was delicate and susceptible to breakage. And it would upset Avaric terribly, Galinda knew that. Perhaps he didn't love her, but he was frightening close to her. There was no one else that knew him so intimately, no one else he was so open with. No one else he was honest with.

She was not necessarily uncomfortable. There was just something missing. Something she hoped came with time and patience. Until then, she let it be.

She came from the shower half an hour later and found Avaric on his floor, dividing the pasta between plates. He looked up and smiled. "Just in time." He blinked. "Wow. This isn't saying anything bad, because you're obviously beautiful always, but it still surprises me how different your face is without make up."

Galinda sat beside him, pulling a plate into her lap and smiling exasperatedly. "You see me without it on all the time."

"I see you with it on all the time, too. And you have different looks. Different faces, I guess."

Galinda rose an eyebrow. "Oh? How does my make up change, exactly?"

"Well, your school look is pretty subtle. You don't use lipstick or blush."

"I use an orange blush and wear lip gloss to school."

"Well, either way, it's not what you wear when we go out. Like when we go clubbing you always use pink. When we go a restaurant you usually have red lipstick. And when we go out in the day you do your school look, but like, vamped up a little."

"You've certainly been paying attention."

"I watch you put it on usually, so…"

"Do you want to try it?"

He looked up at her, swallowed a mouthful of pasta audibly. "What?"

"Putting on a full face," she said. She usually put a little makeup on him when they filmed themselves, but nothing truly transformative. "Lipstick, eyes, lashes, contour - the whole thing."

He looked hesitant. "Uh, I'm… not sure."

"We wouldn't need to take any photos or anything. Make up really does transform your face. It's a pretty interesting experience."

"How long would it take?"

"... Probably an hour." She'd have to lay it on a bit thicker for him than she would for herself.

He seemed to debate with himself. Then he smiled in that kind of half-guilty-half-indulgent way. "Yeah, why not? Make me pretty."

"I'll try my hardest."

It was awfully fun, trying to make Avaric conventionally feminine. He had such a masculine face. She caked him in foundation and went to town. It took her about fifteen minutes just to stop him flinching away when she tried to blacken his waterline and put in the fake lashes. When they were finally finished, he looked like another person.

"Done," Galinda said, smiling at him in the mirror.

He blinked back at himself, completely transformed. "Holy shit," he muttered. He leaned forward, inspecting his face with a kind of undecided grimace. He faced himself straight on again. Looked at himself seriously. Pursed his lips. He turned his head at an angle, his eyes with their long lashes hooded, his blushing cheek catching the light and glittering. He grinned cockily, and laughed. "Holy shit! I'm hot. This is hilarious." He met her eye in the mirror. "Good job, babe."

"Thank you." She watched him make expressions in the mirror. He seemed quite taken with himself. He did exactly the kind of pretentious, model-esque faces she did in the mirror when she was feeling pretty. She felt a familiar affection for him tug in her chest.

"You're beautiful," Galinda said softly.

He blushed - she saw it on his neck and ears - and turned to look up at her. He kissed the arm of her hand resting on his shoulder. "Should I take this off before we go downstairs?"

"That'd probably be best. Especially with those lashes." He blinked prettily. She snickered and went off to put some underwear on, taken from the stash of clothes she kept at Avarics'.

They were mostly bought by Avaric himself. He enjoyed taking pictures of things he thought she'd like while he was out shopping for himself. He had good taste. Pretentious, expensive taste. It had been surprising when they'd first dated, but she'd since learned that it was very true to Avaric's character. While any rich boy could throw around money and just buy anything designer - there were many such boys in Ozma Towers - Avaric had an eye for aesthetics.

"I know we said no pictures, but… we should _so_ take a picture together." He took his shirt off - he didn't feel right wearing boy or girl clothes with his face as it was - and took it with his iphone. He almost instinctively uploaded it to instagram, but just caught himself.

"Disaster avoided," he remarked cheerfully. "Now take all this off me."

"This is like, a hundred dollars of make up going down the drain," Galinda muttered.

"I can replace it."

"You'd better."

Once he was clean-faced and freshly showered, they descended into their playroom - there really was no more fitting a name for it - with the slow, theatric tread of stage actors. The room belonged as much to Galinda as it did to Avaric. They had chosen everything together. Avaric had never indulged before meeting Galinda and Galinda had never required items of this extent, apart from a few tame sex toys.

Galinda remembered the day they'd built this room; it'd happened overnight, a single shopping spree in a high end adults store and a few online furniture orders. That was the kind of life Avaric lived: he wanted a sex den? He went out and bought one. The bed, ropes, the straps, the toys, the lights and a camera worth thousands, just for that room. It was partly Galinda's influence, god knew she could shop herself to death, but Avaric was just as indulgent all by himself.

It had been so much _fun_.

"How about this one?"

"Are you sure?"

"It's a king size, it's got all the right kind of bars and rings in the headboard… and that padded centrepiece-"

"Is too cliche. It's too on the nose. A red leather cushion with gold bars? That's the kind of cheap vampire sex dungeon bed you see in porn."

"Galinda, It's _because_ of its cliche that it works. It's ironic. The vampire sex dungeon bed, but well made, with _gold_ \- you know they never have gold beds in porn, it's too expensive - and it's so _decadent_. It's the cliche, but done better."

She had laughed, and felt a sort of love for him. She had felt like they were friends. Very good, loving friends. And she had never felt as close to him since.

But she did not have to feel close to him to perform. Their dynamic was a strange take on domination and submission that had been tailored specifically to Avaric's needs. Her role was a role of service.

Avaric was, in short, a true pillow princess.

Avaric certainly never serviced her. Within these scenes he had touched her for her pleasure a handful of times, and had done badly each time - she could only guess it didn't arouse him enough to make him care to do better. Outside of these scenes, when he was feeling insecure and trying to prove his masculinity, his skills were just as lacking. He simply didn't know how to fuck someone else.

Galinda still got off despite the imbalance; submitting was all he could do, but he at least did it well.

Like now, he stood in the middle of the room with his hands folded in front of him, awaiting orders. He didn't look at her; this was an automatic rule established to all scenes unless specifically commanded otherwise.

"Stand in front of the mirror and strip." He obeyed quickly. She meandered around the dresser that held their equipment. She glanced at him. "Did I tell you to look in the mirror?"

"No, Miss Arduenna."

"Then don't look in the mirror. How do you feel about ropes?"

"Whatever you'd prefer, Miss Arduenna." That response meant Avaric approved. She opened the draw of ropes, running her hand over the different colours and materials. She chose her favourite, a rope of gold Tossa Jute. It left a residue of flakey golden dust as it chafed against the skin; Galinda thought that dust would look very good against Avaric's bronzed skin.

"And what cock am I giving you today?" Galinda asked casually, perusing their collection. All of them were silicone, except for a few glass pieces. None of them approached anything realistic in design. Avaric seemed very uncomfortable with the idea, and Galinda could guess why. She'd never liked the realistic ones anyway. They weren't as good as the real thing, and when she used a dildo she wanted all of its advantages of colour and texture and size.

"I'm not sure, Miss Arduenna."

"Something soft? Or something firm?"

"Perhaps something soft," He said distractedly, obviously focused on staring at nothing.

She arched a brow. No name, and no please? She took up a dildo he always enjoyed, fitting it into the ring of her strap on and stepping into it. "Come here." He came over. "That was very rude of you, boy."

He blinked, completely oblivious to his behaviour, of course. "I'm sorry, Miss Arduenna."

"I'm afraid you'll need a little lesson." He was already shaking. She took up the ropes, pacing around to face his back. "And we don't want you squirming away, do we boy?"

"No Miss Arduenna," he said quietly.

"Fold your arms behind your back with your hands holding your elbows, and spread your legs." He did as she said, flushing.

Galinda wound the first loop of rope around him, the tight and finely crafted fibres sliding through her curled fingers, the tooth of it catching against her palm, and felt the first firm lick of pleasure.

..................................

........................

...............

........

...

Avaric and Galinda lay side by side on their den's bed sharing a bottle of Voss. He was still faintly covered in gold, the sweat dried on his skin and the proper colour returned to his limbs. He had a soft, heated towel beneath him. Galinda basked in the silk sheets, munched on a protein bar, and pondered what Milla had said in the prefects lounge earlier that evening.

"Would you consider yourself a selfish lover, Avaric?" Galinda asked.

"I'm not sure."

"I would."

"Really?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "I'm doing all the work, aren't I?"

"Well, you seem to like it that way," he said. "I know you try to hide it, but it's obvious you don't enjoy being dominated."

She pressed her lips together. She couldn't tell him he was just doing it wrong. There was nothing more fragile than a man's ego about his performance. Wading through the insecurity and defensiveness was more trouble than it was worth. "True," she said instead. "Anyway, I don't consider selfishness bad unless it's excessive. A bit of selfishness is healthy."

"I absolutely agree. And when you work hard, why shouldn't you get to be selfish?"

She wondered privately how that applied to him. His role as head boy was mostly limited to disciplining others, and he didn't have half the extracurriculars Galinda had. They were in an honest and open mood, so why not ask? "Is being Head Boy really so hard, Avaric? You're basically just a peacekeeper."

"I think you're underestimating how difficult that is. When you have a lot of guys all cooped up like that without any women to stop them, stupid shit is bound to happen." He touched her arm and looked at her meaningfully. "Like that time last year. Remember that? When I had to break up an actual round of Russian Roulette?"

"That was terrifying."

"It's what happens. Women don't realise how much they change how men act. When there are no women to make them want to be better…" Avaric shrugged a shoulder. "It's that carelessness, I guess. Carelessness and aggression."

Galinda frowned. "I'm glad you're not really like that."

He looked at her. "I can be," he said a bit defensively. "I like it. Being one of the guys, you know?" He leaned forward over his legs, looking away in thought. "There's something charming about it."

"Aggression?"

"Yeah. I mean, no - more carelessness, but all of it and how it comes out. Masculinity in general. Men."

Galinda peered at him. "You find men charming?"

He looked back at her, and she saw that he was startled and scared. "It'd be totally fine," she said quickly. "You know I'm attracted to women. Are you…?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "I've wondered. But women are better."

"I just wondered, since you call me -"

"I know. I can't explain it. But I don't see you as a guy or whatever. I like women."

She turned it over in her head. "I guess these days using daddy in bed is more about a role than the gender of the person."

He was grimacing. "Sure. I mean, I definitely don't, like… feel like a woman."

"No?"

He looked at her, visibly uncomfortable and surprisingly angry. “No. Is that what you thought?”

“Well, not really, but I suppose I wondered-”

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “Do I look like that faggot Fae? I’m nothing like that.”

Galinda sat up slightly, alarmed by the change in him. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t something I’d thought about a lot...”

"Whatever." He stood up, pulling his underwear back on quickly. He smoothed his hair back, obviously trying to calm down. "I'm going to have a shower. You can go home if you'd like."

Galinda watched him go up the stairs. She sighed, and went to get her phone to text Ama Clutch. It was about one in the morning, but her Ama had a bad habit of perusing online fabric stores and laughing over facebook memes late into the night. Galinda hoped she wasn't pulling the poor woman out of bed.

Ama texted back that she'd be there in twenty. Galinda gathered up her stuff and went upstairs to get changed into actual clothes. She sat on his bed, waiting for him to finish his shower or for Ama to arrive. Ama arrived first. "I'm going home," she called over the water. She waited for a response, but he probably didn't hear her. She texted him goodbye instead as she walked out to the road.

She slipped into Ama Clutch's car, and looked at the woman's soft, reproachful face, and felt immediately relieved. She smiled guiltily. "I'm sorry, Ama."

The woman shook her head. "The things I do for you, poppet. You're lucky I love you more than the damn stars."


	4. Infiltrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Infiltrate by Migraine: https://migrainehc.bandcamp.com/track/infiltrate

Elphaba was going to Sunday service for the first time in months.

They were going because they wanted to see Nessa, and because Sarima would be there, and because their father had asked them to. Usually Frex requesting Elphaba's presence would have the opposite effect, but they hadn't seen the man since the last holy day they'd attended, and they worried about their father taking the situation into his own hands and coming to their apartment.

The other reason, which Elphaba was loath to admit, was that they found it hard to truly refuse their family. Even the family they detested most. Frex wielded guilt like a knife when he needed to.

Their presence on the church property turned heads. A familiar experience of course, though the feeling behind it was considerably different. It wasn't shock or confusion or revulsion at Elphaba's existence, but a half welcoming, half wary surprise at their presence. They were somewhat infamous in the church community. For several reasons.

Elphaba charged past the chapel where the service would be held. It was an hour till it commenced and they were still setting up the chairs and the speakers and all the bands' equipment. Elphaba went to their father's house, the reverend's house, that sat at the back of the property.

They let themself in. The kitchen was empty, peacefully bathed with sunlight from the north and east windows, looking out at idyllic views of green hills and tall Gillikin pines. Bread donated by the local bakery sat in an overflowing trash bag. The sun glinted off of the face of a Unionist ikon propped up in the middle of the kitchen table. It was an imperial cross wrapped in roses.

Frex entered from the left, straightening his tie and switching on the kettle. He opened a rice cooker that'd been sitting on the 'keep warm' setting, and jumped the moment Elphaba came into his periphery. "Fabalaq!" He pressed his hand to his chest. "You startled me."

Elphaba closed their door behind themself. "Father."

He smiled. "I am so glad you came." He came over and drew Elphaba into a hug, patting their back. He held their face in both his hands when he pulled away. "I do not see you enough, my child."

"Still busy," they said. "Sorry."

"Hmm," he intoned. He went back to his rice. "What are you doing with yourself these days? Still playing music?"

"Yes."

"Still in Heathdale?"

They considered lying to throw him off. "I am," they said, which was the truth.

"And do you have a job?"

Elphaba contained a scoff. "No, I do not."

"Hmm. How are you supporting yourself? You're sure you don't want a little money?"

"I'm doing fine," Elphaba said firmly. They had no interest in being indebted to their father in any way.

They lived on the money they got for their gigs. This was only enough because most of the money went to Elphaba alone. This had not been Elphaba's decision. The other members of Shame Machine had realised that Elphaba had been an inch from eviction for months on end, and had sternly reminded Elphaba that all of them were much better off, and that their lead singer needed to have a roof over their head.

Elphaba felt bad for it, not being used to taking money that wasn't theirs. In Munchkinland Elphaba had received disability payments. The government had considered their skin - on top of a myriad of mental illnesses - enough of a hamper on their life not to make them go job-seeking, which was usually the requirement for a non-student to get payments. Gillikin was far stingier, of course.

"Very well," Frex said. "Will you be attending the service?"

"Perhaps." No.

"The Cott daughter, Bonniq is giving the sermon today."

Elphaba raised their eyebrows. "Bonniq? Wasn't she quite distant from the church?"

"She's recently reconnected. It sounded like her life was a little…" He made a face at Elphaba, the end of his statement. "But she's found her way back. She's an interesting girl."

"I see."

"She has tattoos, like you. All up and down her arms."

Elphaba looked at him hard as he went about casually preparing his breakfast. "Please tell me you didn't ask me here to discuss a potential match to Bonniq," Elphaba said.

Frex peered at them, caught out.

"Father…"

"Fabalaq, is the idea really so bad? She seems like such a lovely girl. An open minded girl," he said, looking away before his eyes would betray him and glance at all the things a match would need to be open minded to.

Elphaba walked a little further into the kitchen, peering out into the lounge. Nessa's door was shut. "I don't want the matching," Elphaba told him, voice steely. "I've told you this several times. It will not happen."

"I know," Frex said, looking somewhat troubled. The lack of real concern showed how little he did know, or cared to know. "Somewhere out there is someone made to receive you, Fabalaq. I know you don't understand it yet, but… there is that someone for all of us."

_Even for someone like you._ It'd been said by him at another time, when he was more frustrated. Elphaba still heard it like he'd just said it.

"Bonniq is a nice girl, and she's been through similar things to you…"

"You mean she's as fallen as I am," Elphaba said.

Frex looked at them impassively. Elphaba looked back, defiant. "Fine," he said. "Yes, she's as fallen as you. You are not an angel, Fabalaq. You have squandered parts of the blessing your mother and I gave you -" he shut his eyes. "But that is your path. Bonniq is on a similar path. Your matching seems obvious."

"I'm not getting matched. And what, exactly, have I squandered? How does my having tattoos insult the Unnamed God so terribly?"

"Tattoos are an insult to His creation. Your body's a temple and it must be respected."

"You let Nessa get her ears pierced."

"Your tattoos and simple piercings are not comparable. Furthermore, it is not your body to mark, Fabalaq-"

"Don't," they said harshly. They realised they'd began to shake.

Frex went quiet. He looked at the bowls of rice and broth he had prepared himself. He laid them out on the dining room table over a setting mat, and sat down. "When we think our bodies are just for ourselves, we don't take care of them. We damage ourselves. Do you want to give your future wife a damaged body?"

"I won't have a wife, she doesn't exist!"

"She does!" he cried, slamming the table hard enough to make the bowls and cutlery rattle as he looked at Elphaba madly. "How much longer will you deny this? What do you think the alternative is? Will you find love in a bar, Fabalaq? You are green and have breasts." He hid his face in his hands. "Do not throw this away," he said quietly and with great feeling, as if to himself. "Do not cast away a chance at real happiness because of pride."

"Fuck off," Elphaba muttered, going for the door.

"You don't even realise what you have! What you've been born with! You're a blessed child _pure of lineage_ , Fabalaq! Even you!"

Elphaba slammed the door and marched up the path. They'd have to apologise to Nessa and Sarima. There was nothing that drove them away so thoroughly like a discussion about marriage with their father. But then, they had never come away from visiting their father or the church property feeling good, and they probably never would.

They ran into Sarima as they were making toward the property gate anyway. They spotted each other and Sarima waved off her parents, and came over with her hands folded in front of her. "Fae," she said in greeting.

“Sarima.”

“Why are you…?”

“Frex wanted to talk,” Elphaba said. Sarima nodded quickly. “Naturally, I am now leaving.”

“Wasn’t pleasant?”

“He’s trying to pawn me off to the Cott’s. Bonnie is apparently a born again Unificationist.”

Sarima laughed in sheer surprise. “Well, if Bonnie can get blessed we all can. Definition of the term “fallen”, that girl.”

“Frex said she just had a tattoo.”

“She was a club kid. She’s done everything. But I won’t tell if she hasn’t confessed as much,” Sarima said. “She’s a nice person. I hope she gets what she wants.”

They lapsed into silence, and then awkwardness. The last time they’d seen each other had been tense, to say the least. Sarima was more reserved, keeping a further distance from Elphaba, keeping her eyes to herself. It was partly because they were on church grounds, of course.

“Sorry about the other day,” Sarima said. Elphaba met her eye. “I was really… I have no excuse, I guess. I was really forward. It was too much.” She looked down, rubbing her hand against her face.

Elphaba cleared their throat. “I’m sorry for not contacting you since. I came here partly to talk to you.”

“For anything in particular?”

“Not really.”

They lapsed into silence again, and exchanged tight smiles. Elphaba saw Sarima’s parents watching them by the steps of the church. They pressed their hand to the back of their head, stepping toward the gate. “I’d better go. You’ll be at the show next Monday?”

“Of course. I heard it’s gonna be a good one.”  
  
“Yes. Crope and Tibbett are very excited.” Elphaba paced toward the gate. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Sarima waved and smiled, and went over to her parents quickly. Elphaba sighed and shoved their hands in their pockets, and walked to the station.

* * *

 

Elphaba was on their back on the floor of their apartment, listening to Have A Nice Life or Giles Corey, or some other sad person singing to lofi about death. The playlist they had on was large and easy to lose track of. They held a pen that they tapped against the side of their thigh as they ran through lyrics in their head.

They hadn't had a show for four days now. While the rest of Elphaba's band had jobs, school, social lives, Elphaba had nothing but the band. Certainly not by choice; they couldn't afford school, and they preferred a social life be thrust upon them rather than having to manufacture it themself. So they read and wrote and slept their way through most days. It felt a lot like being institutionalised had, just without the schedule. It drove them up the wall.

It worried their band members too, Elphaba knew that. They didn't care that Elphaba may have been unproductive - they were not the kinds of people to demand productivity of anyone except themselves - but they did care about Elphaba's sanity.

Elphaba thought they were doing alright. They ate almost enough food and probably got more than enough exercise. They were being creative, sort of. And they were forever reading. They had read almost every book they owned several times, and they had the whole internet and its wealth of free, illegal epubs and pdfs to exploit. So what if there were some days Elphaba forced themself to sleep so long into the day and evening they felt lightheaded upon standing? It wasn't like there was anything else for them to do.

The door to their apartment opened. A plastic bag rustled, feet padded toward them. "You really need to stop listening to this shit, Elphie."

There Crope was, delivering their social life. "Why is that?" Elphaba asked.

"You're depressed enough already."

Elphaba sneered. "I see you are once again barging into my apartment completely unannounced."

"You love it."

"Do I? Do I really?"

"I brought food. Hope you're up to curry." Elphaba got up from the floor. They were up for anything that wasn't biocheese or frozen falafel. "What've you been up to?"

"Trying to get a new song done." They sat at the little dining room table just beyond the kitchen counter, splitting the rice and curry between them. Crope watched Elphaba wolf down their food.

"When's the last time you had real vegetables?"

"Excuse me. I ate a carrot yesterday."

"Well, I'm very proud of you."

They fell silent while they ate.  Elphaba's bandmates usually came in groups, but Crope dropped in frequently on her own. Each time she brought food, asked how they were doing, sat around with them scrolling through tumblr or watching youtube videos together. Elphaba wouldn't admit it, but it was one of the best parts of their week.

"How's the song going?" Crope asked.

"It's not. I haven't been writing with much success recently."

"Writers block?" Crope asked, glancing up at them from her plate.

"One assumes so."

"Any idea why?"

"No," Elphaba said quietly.

Crope got up. "Want a drink?" she asked.

"Nah."

"...Is this the cult book?" Crope had picked up the divine principle from their kitchen counter. She turned it over in her hands, then flicked open to a random page. "Have you been reading this recently?" She asked, glancing up at Elphaba bemusedly.

"I've been reading it throughout the year intermittently."

"Why? You hate this stuff, right?"

"I do. It mostly works as a deterrent."

"A deterrent for what?"

Elphaba pushed food around on their plate. "Fun. It's a real killjoy." Crope lifted a brow. "It just helps me distract myself."

Crope frowned, unsure of something. "Okay..."

Elphaba weighed up honesty. If there was anyone they might mention it to, it was Crope or Tibbett, since they were trans women. They might have similar experiences. "I read it… when my body is getting ahead of itself."

Crope looked briefly puzzled, then twitched with acknowledgement. "Oh! It's a boner killer. Just masturbate like a normal girl, Elphie. We all do it."

"Tibbett -"

"- Does not like to touch her junk, but there are many ways to get your rocks off hands free." Crope closed the book and grinned coyly at Elphaba. "Should I demonstrate?"

"You would." Elphaba took a bite. "I'm just not interested in doing that," they mumbled through their mouthful of food.

"...Is it dysphoria?"

"I don't think so," Elphaba dismissed. They knew what dysphoria felt like, and it simply wasn't the same. Not that dysphoria was always that consistent. Maybe it was dysphoria. "I'm not sure to be honest. I'm sure I don't need it, that's all."

"It's not about need. It's just a potential management technique." Crope placed the book back on the counter and sat back opposite Elphaba, laying her hand on their arm. "I can guarantee masturbation is more healthy than reading that book, my love. If what you've told me about the cult is any indication."

"Oh, it's terrible," Elphaba said, jumping on the change of topic. "It's no wonder I'm so depressed. I've been driven to it, Crope. Deep, deep wounds."

Crope chose to ignore their sass. "Terrible how? You've all been very secretive about the cult. Except Sarima, I guess. She's told me some things but-"

"None of the context?" Sarima loved to tell the worst bits, but gave none of the background.

"Yeah. Like I know you drink holy wine and some of it's really weirdly made? And has like, blood in it?"

"Allegedly," Elphaba said quickly. "We never really got proof for that. Fiyero heard it at Colwen Grounds, and when we asked our parents they defended it without saying if it was true, so we don't know."

"Still, that is extremely culty."

"The whole thing is culty."

"Is there an actual reason for that stuff, or is it just for the aesthetic of it all?"

Elphaba leaned back in their seat, stretching their arms and back as they formulated a simple answer for that. "There are reasons for all of it, certainly. The wine is so the members have something they need to buy from the church regularly, along with the holy candles and salt. The arranged marriages are so people would pump out kids to give the church a ready to use generation of members. Though most second generation are leaving the church anyway. It wasn't very successful."

"Typical church behaviour, nothing new there."

"It's also very insular, as cults tend to be. That makes it harder to hear opposing opinions and harder to leave. Communal living by church standard usually means all of your friends, your hobbies, you traditions and even your job are involved in the cult somehow. Leaving would ruin your life."

Crope grimaced slightly. "Bit weird."

"It's a corrupted version of real communal living. Communal living is really the ideal state for humans." Elphaba hunched back over the table. "Anyway, that's why they want us to have kids so bad. Need to keep the commune going, though it's more like a semi commune at this point."

"Societies already pressuring people to have kids, too. Not like we're overpopulated. Heteronormativity is _so_ bad for the environment."

"It is a known fact that heteronormativity is bad for every facet of the universe - but the overpopulation thing is a myth. We might be overpopulated or we might be nowhere near overpopulated. We're just not managing our resources very well."

"Huh."

"But yes, the pressure to reproduce is tremendous, and less discerning." Crope looked a bit puzzled at that. "As in it's not just on people with uteruses. Having kids is the end all be all of everyone in the cult. It's known as 'the purpose of creation'." Elphaba leaned over the table toward Crope, making their eyes wide. "God made you to breed, Crope. Because children are a manifestation of love between a husband and wife. And if you don't, you'll never go to heaven, and you'll never experience real happiness, and you're useless because you haven't fulfilled your purpose."

"Creepy," Crope remarked.

"Exactly. Really, it all comes back sex."

"It always does," Crope said distractedly as she cleared her plate. "Finished?" she asked. Elphaba nodded, and Crope took their plate and stacked it on top of her own, taking them to the sink.

"I can do that," Elphaba said as Crope rinsed the dishes.

"No, I'm happy to do them."

"I've taken my pill, I'll be fine."

"You won't get a rash?"

They hadn't lathered their skin in a few days. Elphaba rubbed the back of their head. "... Fine, you do it."

Crope began running the dishes through the sink while Elphaba cleared the table of takeout containers. "You said it all comes back to sex, but it seems like it all comes back to children."

"Well, they're one in the same," Elphaba said. "The only sex they approve of is sex that would result in a child. And with the right person."

"With the right person as in your spouse, or a soulmate?"

"Ideally both. The matchings were chosen by the founder of the church, decided by some divine connection rather than coincidence." Elphaba grimaced to themselves as they dried plates with three tea towels between them and the dewy kitchenware. "With our generation it's a bit different. He died, you see. So parents and local leaders are matching people. It's a lot more about strategy now, especially between parents.

"But we were raised being told we had someone made for us, and that we were made for them. That we belong to them, even before marriage. Smoking, drinking, drugs, piercings, tattoos, being fat, masturbation - they're all things you can't do or be because that body isn't yours to spoil."

"In those words?" Crope asked, her voice touched with disbelief.

"Yes. My sleeves mean I'll never be the perfect candidate for marriage, virgin or not."

"I did wonder if they meant something."

"They mean many things."

"You're owning your body," Crope said, and when Elphaba glanced at her she was turned around and smiling almost proudly.

"I suppose I am. I just wanted to get him off my back." They could see the question forming on Crope's face, and cursed their own slip up immediately. "My father," they said quickly. "He's always been strong about these things."

"Ah. That couldn't have been fun."

Elphaba was silent for a few moments. "Have you heard the dirty rag simile?" They asked, putting aside the tea towels and leading back against the counter.

"No."

"It says that you're like a cloth, and every time you kiss someone or touch someone or - God forbid - have sex with someone before marriage, you're dirtying that cloth. So when you get married to the person you're meant to be with, you'll have to give them a dirty rag rather than a clean cloth."

"That's horrifying," Crope said with false cheer.

"It is. My father said that all the time," Elphaba sighed. "And the crinkled paper, that'll never be smooth again after being balled up. And the crushed flower that'll never be beautiful again, of course, but that was usually for people with vaginas."

"Yikes," Crope said quietly.

"Mm."

Crope stared down at nothing, her brow furrowed. She looked up at Elphaba eventually. "So… they're weird about masturbation."

"... That is what I said," Elphaba said mildly.

"I'm just curious."

"Somehow I doubt it."

Crope put her hands up. "Drinking and drugs and smoking, even tattoos I can understand. Why is wanking harmful?"

"You don't know the old wives tales about hairy hands and impotence? They believe the contemporary versions of those. Just as ridiculous and lacking in evidence." Elphaba paused, and sighed. "Furthermore, having erotic thoughts about someone other than your match is being unfaithful."

"Before you've even met them?"

"Before you've even met them."

Crope shook her head, her eyes wide. "That's some wild shit, Elphie."

"I'm aware."

"So wait, if you promised to marry another person when you were like thirteen, and got their permission - like a wanking pact -" Crope's phone went off. She fished it from her pocket. "Ah. I need to go. I'm meeting Tibbett in town."

Elphaba walked Crope to the door. "You probably wouldn't get away with a wanking pact, no."

"Worth a try." She took Elphaba's right hand as if she were going to kiss the back of it. She stopped mid lift, her brows furrowed, and drifted her fingers over the scabs on Elphaba's wrist.

Elphaba snatched their hand away.

"Are you starting again?"

"It's a scratch, Crope."

Crope looked unconvinced. She stepped out the door and forced a cheerful smile. "Bye, Elphie. Take care of yourself."

They closed the door behind Crope, instantly regretting the discussion that'd just transpired. Crope would talk to Tibbett, and then both of them would have some unwarranted worry for Elphaba's health. More than they already had.

Boq, Fiyero, Sarima and Elphaba all had different ways of talking about the cult. Boq mentioned it casually, making it sound like just another denomination of Unionism. Sarima talked about it openly, sharing the most terrible stories and details to whoever was curious, with no real information. Fiyero put off mentioning it as long as possible, especially to partners.

Elphaba had no idea what to do with such a childhood. They mentioned the relevant parts to their psychologist and not much beyond that. They held all the ichor they could bare to themself.

* * *

 

Elphaba was in the backstage equipment room before a show at The Reverent, dragging their fingers through their hair in front of a tiny mirror. Crope and Tibbett had just finished their make up for tonight's look, and had run off to help set up the stage and prep their instruments. Elphaba was going for a dishevelled look to their hair. They were dressing as a Kumbric Witch, so they needed a certain primal air to them.

They were almost done when there was a knock at the door. It was about fifteen minutes until they'd be on stage. Elphaba opened the door to find Sarima standing there. She looked up from where she'd been staring at her shoes, and her mouth dropped open. She laughed a bit as she looked Elphaba over. "No way."

“A kumbric witch,” Elphaba said, holding up their claw-like hands in a shrug. “Well, a variation. It was Crope and Tibbett’s design. I would've had more thorns.”

Sarima arched a brow. “It wasn’t inspired by our conversation at all, I’m sure.”

“Well…”

“I love it,” Sarima said, looking them over again. She dragged her eyes up to theirs, and shook her head, putting her hands on her waist. "And I love those girls. They know exactly what they're doing. Did you contour your abs?"

Elphaba blinked. "I did not."

"That's just your body?" Elphaba stared back, unsure how to respond. "Good God," Sarima said quietly.

Elphaba placed their hand on their stomach, peering down. "I'm not sure if my stomach looks unusual, since I don't frequently look at stomachs-"

"Your stomach looks perfect. Everything about you is scarily attractive," Sarima said very casually. Elphaba reeled. "Do you have any fat on your body? I'm kind of concerned now."

"I don't have my body fat percentage on hand, I'm afraid - I'm sorry, did you just say I'm attractive?" Elphaba asked somewhere between confused and anxious.

"Yeah," Sarima said, slightly puzzled.

Elphaba stared at her for a moment, their mouth open. Then they laughed. "Okay."

"You're attractive. I'm attracted to you," Sarima said, very directly. "I'm pretty sure like, all of our mutual friends are attracted to you too."

"My band are n-"

"Your whole band is definitely attracted to you."

"You're wrong about that," Elphaba promised her. "Perhaps you are attracted to me, but my band are not."

Sarima looked like she was going to argue the point, but seemingly gave up. "Are you attracted to me?" She asked. "Just be honest, I won't be hurt."

Elphaba fell silent, pressing their lips together.

"You're going to make this impossible, aren't you?" Sarima said, a bit exasperated.

"I have never really been in this situation before. It's difficult to know what to do."

"Tell the truth."

Elphaba's eyes wandered off, their stomach coiling in on itself. "Fine. Yes, I am. I think."

"Attracted to me?"

"Yes."

"Good." Sarima leaned up on her toes and took Elphaba's face between her hands, bringing them down to kiss her.

Elphaba went stock still.

Sarima maintained the kiss for a long moment, and then pulled away slowly, looking at them with her eyes bright and searching. "There," she murmured. "The hard parts out of the way."

Elphaba blinked rapidly. They felt like their face must've been showing how hot it felt somehow, but most of their face was covered in make up, of course. Knowing that steadied them somewhat. The costume in general helped. Their hands, which had jumped to Sarima's waist - they'd had no conscious knowledge of it - curled around her wrists. "I need to finish getting ready for the show," they said quietly.

"Okay. I look forward to it." Elphaba nodded slightly. Sarima smiled up at them tentatively. "See you later, Fae."

She went down the hall. Elphaba closed the door. They looked at the ground, which was cement, covered in dust and dirt. They rubbed their palms with it and wiped it over their midsection and arms, a bit damp from sweat. It was the tail end of summer and these venues already got very warm. The dirt would help the outfit. They ran their hands over the dips and ridges of the scars on their arms. They felt an overwhelming urge. They left the equipment room quickly, to go to their band and set up their mic, and make themself busy.

...

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...

Their first kiss.

They had their first kiss. It was more and less than expected. The rational side of Elphaba expected less. The stupid part expected more. Both parts were equally, frustratingly curious. Elphaba had wondered what kissing would feel like and now that they'd felt it they only wanted more kissing to analyse. It'd felt brief. It'd felt like nothing much at all.

Elphaba lay on their bed, their room half fallen into darkness, a cool evening breeze coming through the window. They touched their own lips lightly. They were sensitive, which Elphaba had not acknowledged before. They saw Sarima. They saw pink. Hot pink. They drew in a breath, their hand falling from their face. Their eyes stung.

They felt so stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in the comics are from Belt by Say Anything.


	5. Icon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Icon by Empress Of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxN5kbsWhWo
> 
> just a note that this chapter gets a lil nsfw. ;)

Galinda was making out with Milla Mach in a darkroom.

The events leading up to this seemed stupid in retrospect. Galinda had been looking for some kind of thick paper to print on for a design project on invitations. She'd gone to the photography room, naturally. She'd heard unusual sounds from the darkroom. It was part of her job to check unusual sounds in unoccupied rooms.

She was not surprised upon finding Milla and a half naked girl bent over one of the metal desks.

"Get out of here," Galinda had said harshly to the girl. She'd scrabbled for her shirt and left, her face bright red. Galinda pinned Milla where she was with her eyes. Once the girl was well and truly gone Galinda relaxed minutely. "What the hell are you doing, Milla?" Galinda asked.

"I was trying to have fun," Milla said.

"Do it somewhere with less chemicals strewn about next time."

"They're all safely packed away."

Galinda crossed her arms. "Why aren't you in class?"

"Neither are you."

"I'm getting paper to print on."

Milla smiled, and it was totally evil. "So you already have an alibi. How convenient."

Galinda sighed shortly and began to leave. "Just go to class, okay?"

"Why do you care?" Milla called. Galinda turned as Milla lifted herself to sit on one of the metal desks. Galinda would've seen right up her skirt if Milla's thighs weren't so thick. "Seems to me like you're a bit jealous, princess. Don't want people having fun when you can't."

"You got me. I'm just so broken up over this."

"No, you're not. You're not that desperate." Milla tilted her head, smirking in that irritatingly cocky way she did. "But I bet you care enough to come over here and kiss me."

Galinda stared at her, stunned. "Excuse me?" She asked finally.

"You heard me."

"I don't want to kiss you."

"Right. You're scared to be around me because you _don't_ secretly want to kiss me."

"I'm not-"

"Are you going to claim you haven't been avoiding me?" Milla asked. She didn't sound angry, just direct.

Galinda was silent for a long moment. "I have been," she admitted quietly.

"Why?"

Galinda stared at her hard. Milla stared back, frank and unpretentious. It was refreshing, that there was no edge of mocking or denial of interest.

She paced over until Milla's knees were brushing her thighs. Milla smiled, and leaned back on her hands, her legs parting so Galinda could step between them.

Then they were making out in the darkroom.

It was _nice_. It was so nice. It was so different from Avaric. There was a carefulness that Avaric lacked, an attentiveness. Galinda had never really be able to tell a good kisser from an okay kisser - it was only really clear when someone was awful - but kissing Milla at least made her realise Avaric was not a good kisser.

Milla broke their kiss and began moving down Galinda's neck, her hands rubbing the small of Galinda's back under her school blazer. "I knew this was going to happen," Milla muttered between pecks. "I could tell you and Avaric weren't as hardcore as people thought."

"What do you mean?"

Milla leaned back just enough to look at her. "Pfannee thinks you're all grandly in love and stuff. But you're not at all, are you? I figured you guys had an open relationship."

Galinda blinked rapidly. "Well, you're right that we're not in love, but we don't have an open relationship."

The smile on Milla's face disappeared. "What?" Her hands jumped off of Galinda's waist. "Whoa. Okay. I'm very into you, but I'm not about cheating."

Galinda blushed. "You're into me?"

"Yeah, duh. Why didn't you say Avaric wouldn't be cool with this?" Milla said, on the edge of being angry.

"I don't know. I didn't think you'd care."

Milla pressed her hands to her eyes. "I don't care about him. I just don't want to get involved in that kind of drama." She looked at Galinda with a frown. "Why would you cheat on him? You made it sound like you two were good."

"We are," Galinda said automatically. "We're fine. Avaric... he's an asshole, but he's really not as bad as he seems."

Milla glanced her over. "Then why are you coming onto me?"

Galinda hesitated, her hands on the table either side of Milla fidgeting. "Perhaps I'm just not satisfied."

"Well, that's something that needs to be figured out between the two of you," Milla said, quiet and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Galinda said, her conscience catching up with her. She stepped away from Milla. "You're right. That was…"

"You should talk to Avaric," Milla said firmly. "Tell him what happened."

"Okay." Galinda opened the darkroom door, flushed with embarrassment. She stopped and hung half way in the doorway, looking back at Milla. She needed to rebuild a little bravado after that. "Please don't make it a habit to come here."

Milla looked very exasperated. "Galinda, I can't help it that-"

"Under the stairs near the gym or in the bikeshed by the year three lockers is better," Galinda said. "If you really need to come here, put the light on. People won't open the door then."

Milla grinned slowly. "Noted."

Galinda gave her a perfectly professional smile. "I'll see you in dance class."

* * *

Once a month, Galinda and Ama Clutch went into the woods just outside of Shiz for a weekend. They stayed in her parent's cabin and foraged together.

Foraging was a family tradition passed through many of the Gillikin clans, the Arduenna's included, continued by the women and only in recent history the men. Throughout the forest were secret foraging pockets that remained hidden by their respective foragers. There were trees of juniper and wood mushrooms and honey thistles that Galinda and Ama kept to themselves, even from each other, that they might reveal on their deathbed; though Galinda's great grandmother had kept her foraging spots to her grave, and her grandmother had declared she'd do the same. Galinda's mother did not forage. Galinda insisted on keeping the tradition alive.

Galinda and Ama Clutch picked their way through the forest, staying within a kilometer of each other but searching separately. They had little in jokes that they had developed over the years; like announcing, in a foppish voice, "I've found the murder weapon!" whenever they found something toxic, or shouting "farkle" to each other if they came across farkleberries. Galinda would be mortally embarrassed if anyone else were to witness such an exchange, but alone with Ama Clutch they could be as silly as they liked. As silly as they were in her childhood.

They did a loop of the forest and ended up where they'd started, at the front gate of the cabin. They had baskets of herbs, flowers, berries, roots, nuts, mushrooms, certain grasses - anything that could be worked into a meal. Ama glanced over Galinda's collection. "Decent pull," she declared. "You've been eating the primroses again."

"They're too nice."

Ama shook her head with smile in her eyes. "Well, what you've left ungobbled should be good with the forest pigeon we've got. Let me take that, and you go around and get some wood for the fire, poppet."

When they began to wash what they'd collected and prepare it for supper, Galinda got what she'd been waiting for all day. She stood side by side Ama Clutch, chopping mushrooms roughly while her Ama cleaned a handful of fern roots. "Something happened last week," Galinda said.

"Oh?"

"I kissed someone else." Galinda glanced at Ama Clutch quickly, but the woman had no visible reaction, calm as usual.

"Oh, poppet. Who?"

"Milla. Another prefect."

"Oh?" she said again, but differently, her eyebrows raised. "Finally following that thread, hm?"

"Yes. It wasn't planned…" Galinda shook her head. "I didn't ask Avaric if it was alright."

"Not very smart," Ama Clutch said distractedly.

"I know. I haven't talked to him about it yet, but I'll need to."

"Let's hope he gets very angry and ends the relationship," Ama Clutch said with a cheeky grin. Galinda rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I want, Ama."

"No? What do you want, then?"

Galinda thought about that for a moment, frowning gently. "I have no idea."

"Very well, I wish you luck figuring it out. But you're a fool of a young woman for putting yourself out for him." They exchanged looks, Ama's conspiratory and sparkling. Galinda brushed her off with a fond smile.

There was a small, secondary part of Galinda that would be relieved if Avaric were to be so upset he ended the relationship. If Avaric broke up with her, there would be considerably less social repercussions than the reverse situation; if Galinda were to break up with _him_ , God forbid, she would be the bitch and he would be pathetic, both of their reputations ruined. It wouldn't do any good. Either way, the initial confrontation would be extremely unpleasant.

They stayed at the cabin for two days. Galinda took in Ama's comforting presence and used the seclusion and silence of the place to better focus on her mountain of homework. When they had to leave on Sunday night, Galinda already had a headache just anticipating the stressful week to come.

They were winding through the mountain roads back down toward Shiz. Ama would usually drop her off at her parents estate and then go on to her own home and have the Monday off, but Galinda had important matters to address before the school week began. "Would you mind taking me to Avaric's instead, Ama?" Galinda asked.

"If you wish, poppet, but I shan't be kind to the boy."

"You won't see him, Ama," Galinda said dismissively. Ama made a little huffing noise.

They pulled up to Avaric's at ten. She'd texted that she was coming over, so she knew he was in. She kissed her Ama's cheek before she got out of the car, waving at her as she drove off. She paced up to the house, vaguely dreading the conversation to come.

When she let herself in, she found Avaric playing some war-themed video game in his theatre room. She leaned against the back of the couch, watching him shoot at vaguely ethnic enemies in high definition. The screen began flashing red and then suddenly went black, the player character presumably dead. Avaric sighed, and then twisted around slightly to look up at her. "Hey."

"Hey babe." Her and Avaric hadn't talked about their tiff a couple of weeks ago, and they hadn't properly been in the same space since, so she wasn't sure if it was still an issue. He hadn't brought it up and she wasn't over to discuss it, so she decided to leave it up to him. "I had an eventful week. Something happened that I thought you should hear about."

"Yeah?" He was watching the game, which had started back on the same scenario he'd been playing through before.

"Yeah." She hesitated briefly, cleared her throat quietly. "I, um, made out with Milla. At school."

He seemed to do something clever or overcome something hard, and hissed triumphantly. He glanced back at her again. "Milla the cheerleader? Don't you two hate each other?"

"Hates a bit strong. We didn't exactly get along, no. But I guess you don't need to get along to kiss."

"Hm."

Galinda waited for more of a reaction, but there was none forthcoming. He just sat and played his game. "So… how do you feel about that?" Galinda asked, annoyed at him for making her ask.

He shrugged. "It's fine."

She blinked in shock. It was fine? Avaric thought her kissing someone else was fine? He could barely stand his friends talking to Galinda. "Okay," she said unsurely. "Would you mind if I made out with her again?"

"Do whatever you want with her," he answered distractedly.

Galinda nodded slowly, tapping her hands against the back of the couch. "Okay."

"Think she'd be up for a threesome? We haven't done that before."

Milla would  _never_ have a threesome with Avaric. "Maybe," she said. "I can drop some hints."

"Sweet. What's she like, anyway?"

"She's a Munchkinlander. She's pretty cute, I'll show you a picture of her..." Galinda sat next to him. She pulled up what she thought was a flattering selfie of Milla on her phone. Avaric frowned at it.

"She is  _not_ cute."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. She looks like a dyke. Why is she so buff?"

"She's the cheerleading captain. Have you watched cheerleading? They throw people in the air."

He looked from the photo to her. "Not really who I expected you to experiment with."

She didn't like the way he said 'expected'. "I didn't expect you to get a C on that test," is the sort of thing her father would say in that tone, as he looked at her over his glasses and his newspaper critically. It was a bit disconcerting hearing it from Avaric.

"Well, I find her hot," Galinda said firmly, putting away her phone and looking at the tv screen.

There was a long moment that seemed tense to Galinda, though she had no idea why. "Do you want to sleep with her?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said quietly.

"I'm not sure I'm okay with that. She's a lesbian, right?"

"She's bisexual."

"Oh," he said, his voice noticeably different. Galinda glanced at him. "... It  _would_ be fun to have a threesome."

"Yeah," Galinda said quietly. The conversation seemed strange to her, and she found herself demurring.

“None of the other prefects are bicurious?” he asked.

“I can see Shenshen making out with anyone,” Galinda said. “But I doubt we'd ever have sex.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It just wouldn’t make sense. We’re like…” Galinda thought for a word. “Buddies.”

“Hm,” Avaric intoned. “Pfannee would totally pretend she wasn’t curious, but I bet secretly she’d love a threesome with another girl. She’s like, the uptight bitch type, right?”

Galinda cut her eyes at him. She wanted to tell him not to call her a bitch, but she sort of _was_ a bitch. “I could never have sex with her either.”

“You’re not buddies with her.”

“No. I’m just not interested in having sex with her. She’d be so awkward.”

He made a kind of amused huffling noise. “Well, have fun with Milla.”

"I will.” She took this as permission to do as she wanted with Milla.

"And, you know, invite her over some time."  
  
"I'll probably have to get to know her better first. She's not the type to jump right into bed with someone." She wouldn't jump Avaric’s at all.

"Alright." Avaric glanced at her. "I'm guessing you're staying over?"

"Sure. It's late enough."

"I can give you a ride to yours if you'd like."

"I'll stay over."

He glanced at her, his eyes scanning her body quickly before they were back on the screen. They would definitely have sex tonight. Galinda wasn't exactly looking forward to it; she could tell Avaric wasn't in the right headspace to be going downstairs. He wasn't in the right headspace to be good company at all. He was closed, distant - at the root of it, insecure. She knew that.

She found it interesting that Avaric had said he knew Galinda did not enjoy him dominating her, and yet still attempted as much at times like these. She figured it was because this sex was still not really about her. The domination and the submission were, for Avaric, as masturbatory as each other. If Avaric could set a mirror or a camera on himself every time he fucked Galinda he probably would have, to better revel in it for what it truly was. It was not connection, or reassurance, or even sex; it was a power fantasy. Perhaps Galinda would have been okay with that were he any good at it. But he could not even do it well.

She was at least horny, so she might manage to get off despite the situation. She'd masturbated thinking about Milla that morning but it'd only worked her up more. Moreover, with the potential of an experience with Milla balanced on her fingertips, the last thing she wanted was to create waves. So she could endure mediocre sex with Avaric. She always had.

* * *

Milla had invited Galinda to a party.

It was a house party, Galinda assumed. Apparently Shame Machine would be there, and Milla - and secretly Galinda herself - were excited to catch them there. Galinda hoped Elphaba turned up. She hadn't been thinking about them all the time or anything, but she'd wanted to apologise to them, and she'd be reminded of their existence by random, seemingly unrelated little things. Cigarette smoke. Solid black tattoos. The deep magenta of wine.

She was more excited at the implication behind Milla's invite; it'd been suggested they would be spending the night together at Galinda's house. Her parents were out of town, as always. Galinda was ready for it. Very ready. She'd been ready all week, catching Milla's eye during class or in the halls, enduring the flat line that was her and Avaric's sex life when he was trying to be an alpha. Frankly, she needed it.

She'd been concerned about the nature of the party, however, never having been invited to such an event. 

 

 

> **Galinda:** what do i wear
> 
> **Milla:** come as you are.
> 
> **Galinda** : u remember im a huge prep right
> 
> **Milla:** lmao come what in youre comfortable in. not what you usually wear. Just what you want to.
> 
> **Galinda:** what if i want to wear huge prep clothes
> 
> **Milla:** then be a huge prep.  
>  **Milla:** not exactly the kind of place where people expect u to dress a certain way
> 
> **Galinda:** idk i think if any type of dress would be judged there its how i dress
> 
> **Milla:** i guess but like. fuck them? Shame machine r mad cunts they dont care.
> 
> **Galinda:** dont use the c word thats so ugly
> 
> **Milla** : lmao okay princess.

When she turned up to the address Milla had given her, she'd found not a house - as she'd expected - but a building. A big, abandoned building. It looked like it'd been a small warehouse, but any clear signs had since been removed. The sound of live music came from within, the windows lit dimly.

The mass of people inside was fairly big. The entire place was cement floors and completely bare of furniture or distinct fixtures. Galinda pulled out her phone to text Milla that she'd arrived. Milla told her to go toward the lights.

There were two points of light; the makeshift stage, and a circle of dusty couches and mattresses that were surrounded by a few industrial lights. Galinda wasn't feeling the music - more screaming! Galinda didn't understand it - and went to the couches, hoping Milla was there and deciding to wait there if Milla was not.

Milla was not there. The entirety of Shame Machine was. Galinda stared at them and they slowly peered back at her one by one. When the Vinkan guy looked over, his eyes widened, and he knocked his hand against Elphaba's shoulder. Elphaba looked at her. Their mouth fell open.

"Long time no see," Galinda said loud enough to be heard.

Elphaba stared back silently, still looking slightly startled. "Why are you here?" Another person asked.

"I came with Milla."

They all exchanged looks. "Is your boyfriend with you?" The Vinkan guy asked. "Cause he was just a bundle of fun. We missed him, honestly."

"Avaric isn't here, no," Galinda said, sitting down next to a Vinkan girl because it was the only space available on the couches. Galinda glanced at her and found her staring back. Galinda smiled. The girl didn't. Galinda looked back at the guy. "I'm sorry for how he was acting. He can be an asshole."

The Vinkan guy smirked a bit. "Yeah. I'm Fiyero, by the way." He glanced at Elphaba. "Pronoun round?"

"Sure," Elphaba said. "You start."

"You start."

"Fine." Elphaba looked at her. "I'm Elphaba. They, them."

"Fiyero, use anything you like," Fiyero said with a shy grin, looking at the person next to him.

"Boq, he, him." Galinda was privately surprised, having assumed he was a girl from the dress he'd worn before.

"Crope, she, her." She winked and grinned at Galinda. Galinda blinked back, not knowing how to respond.

"Tibbett, she, her." She had such a soft, interesting voice that Galinda smiled automatically, and was smiled at in turn.

The next was the Vinkan girl. She glanced at Galinda briefly. "Sarima, she, her. I'm the only one not in this band."

"Shame Machine, right?"

"Yeah."

Galinda glanced around the circle of them, slightly overwhelmed but hiding it well. "Nice to meet you guys." They all murmured back. Sarima did not, ignoring Galinda outright.

"You know Milla through school, yeah?" Crope asked. "What does she do there? We heard she was like, a student leader or something."

"She's the cheerleading captain and a prefect, like me. Well, I'm Head Girl, but we do about the same stuff."

"Like what?" Boq asked.

"We enforce rules, work as mentors with younger students, help with certain events… I do all that and more as Head Girl. But all four prefects have a part of the workload."

"And this is a finishing school?" Boq asked.

"Yeah."

"What kind of classes do you have?" Elphaba asked.

"Etiquette classes?" Crope suggested, looking at Tibbett, who shrugged.

"Yes," Galinda said. "One of our classes is Etiquette, which is split into social, dating and media work."

"Media?"

"Social media," Galinda explained. They all reacted, blinking and smirking and exchanging looks and such. "It sounds silly, but Crage Hall tries to keep its classes relevant."

"I bet…" The dance music that'd been playing stopped, and everyone peered at the stage excitedly.

"Oyep is on," Boq said. "Heard they're previewing some tracks from their EP. You can come join us if you want," Boq said to Galinda with a little smile.

"Sure…"

"I might stay here," Galinda overheard Elphaba saying to someone.

"Actually, I'll sit this one out," Galinda said to Boq. "Not really feeling a dance right now."

Boq and Sarima the rest of Shame Machine - except for Elphaba - went off. Elphaba was on their phone. Galinda wished she had a bit of liquid courage in her, but she was far from a shy person when it came to socialising. She stood up and went over, and sat beside Elphaba, not too close and not too far from them. Elphaba peered at her.

"Hey," Galinda said with a smile.

"Hi."

"Pretty interesting location for a party."

"Yeah. Been a squatters heaven for months."

"Mm." There was silence, Elphaba still tapping on their phone. They made a throaty little noise, reacting to something on their phone. It had a quality to it Galinda hadn't acknowledged before, a peculiar kind of vocal fry that was particularly obvious as Elphaba's voice was deepened or dragged out. It reminded Galinda of an Animal's voice, like a Hippo's or a Lion's. She wondered if it was a side effect of all the screaming.

Galinda cleared her throat. "I didn't know you wear glasses."

Elphaba glanced back up at her. "I usually wear contacts. They're a bother." Elphaba fluttered their hand. "Slipping and falling and fogging and such. Where's Milla?"

Galinda glanced around them pointlessly. "Not sure. She texted me to come to the light…"

"Probably meant the stage."

"I'm not really feeling the music."

Elphaba hummed thoughtfully. They put away their phone and turned to face her, their leg up on the seat and their arm resting over the back. "How goes the boyfriend?"

"He's alright, though I doubt you really care."

"How did you guess," Elphaba drawled monotonically.

"I wanted to apologise for that time," Galinda said. "He was drunk… well. That's not really an excuse. He's just an asshole sometimes."

"You already said as much," Elphaba said mildly. "Only sometimes?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Perhaps," Elphaba said, clearly unconvinced. They looked Galinda over, not like they were checking her out but in a studious manner. "A prefect of Crage Hall with a boyfriend like that isn't the typical audience to an event like this."

"Milla's my gateway, it seems."

"You have to be open to the gateway first. Surely there are more interesting, relevant events than this. You don't even like the music."

Galinda felt she was being judged. She hadn't expected such an inquisition. "To be honest, I'm mostly here for Milla's company."

"Good friends, are you?"

"Not really," Galinda sighed. She glanced at Elphaba, who was watching her with a kind of laconic curiosity. "The thing is, Milla and I are… almost like enemies, really. Or we were. But the last few months it's been different."

"Different how?"

"We've been flirting, I guess. While we're rude to each other. Flirting amongst, or underneath rudeness. And the other day we kissed at school - it was pretty out of nowhere, but... it wasn't at the same time."

Elphaba was more attentive now, their eyebrows raised slightly. "I see. And how did Avaric feel about that?"

"He didn't know about it until last week. And he didn't care." Galinda looked at her lap, fiddling with the strap of her phone cover. "Well, he cared a bit, but only because Milla's kind of butch. Not even that butch. He backed off when I told him she was bi."

"You don't seem particularly happy about that."

Galinda shrugged. "It confused me, that's all." She paused in thought. "And it was oddly insulting, too," Galinda admitted.

"Insulting how?" Elphaba asked, with interest rather than doubt.

Galinda puzzled over it. "I'm not really sure. It was just strange. He gets so possessive when it's his friends. Then with Milla it suddenly doesn't matter, until shes masculine."

"Because he doesn't take your relationship with Milla seriously unless Milla is somehow like a man," Elphaba said, half a statement and half a question.

"Yes," Galinda said, sitting up slightly at the truth of it. "Yes, you're absolutely right."

"Pretty good reason to be insulted," Elphaba decided. "It's sexist, homophobic and invalidating of relationships between women. Very inconsiderate."

"Sure," Galinda said unsurely before falling silent. "I suppose I didn't expect that from him. He's not as typical as you'd think."

"I find that hard to believe."

Galinda set her chin a little. "He's not exactly straight," she said, as if to prove a point. She was almost about to say he liked to be fucked, but that was inappropriate, and was a secret between the two of them.

"Even if he were flamingly gay, he could still be misogynistic," Elphaba said. Galinda flushed in embarrassment from Elphaba's tone, which made her feel very foolish. "Still, that is surprising to hear," Elphaba went on, "But you probably should not have told me that. Outing people isn't a good habit."

"You don't know him, and I doubt you'll be willingly interacting with him any time soon."

Elphaba snorted. "You're certainly right there, though I still object on principle." Elphaba lapsed into a brief silence. "Is he out?"

"No. Quite the opposite. He struggles with it - not an attraction to men, but how feminine he is. We're pretty similar people, it's why we get along so much. But people expect him to be this big alpha male. People expect so much of both of us," Galinda said, rubbing at her forehead, where she was least likely to mess up any of her make up. "When he's… not feeling comfortable with himself, he becomes really different. Isn't as fun, or nice, or open. He just tries to be this really tough guy. It doesn't suit him at all."

Elphaba looked more attentive now. "Hm. Has he ever been threatening?"  
  
"Threatening?" Galinda asked, startled. "No. No, of course not."

"I just wondered, since he was so... aggressive at Milla's party."

"It's all fake," Galinda said. "All bark."

"I see," Elphaba said, sounding unconvinced, but Galinda suspected they sounded that way often. "It seems like he's got a whole lot of toxic masculinity to work through," they said, settling back into the couch slightly.

"Toxic masculinity," Galinda repeated. She hadn't heard the term before, but she could guess what it meant.

Elphaba looked at her intently, as if they were about to explain something to her. "Yes…" They were distracted, looking up past Galinda's shoulder. "Ah. Hello."

Milla strolled into view, and gave a curt "Hey," to Galinda, but her eyes were on Elphaba. She sat beside Galinda. "Um, Fae, right?" Galinda blinked at the awkwardness of her. It was a totally different side of Milla, that was for sure.

"Yes," Elphaba said. "You can call me Elphaba. And you're Milla, one of Sarima's Kumbric sisters?"

"I am!" There was a beat of silence. "I love Shame Machine. You're seriously a great performer."

"Thank you," Elphaba said, a bit stiffly.

"Are you performing tonight?"

"No. My bandmates may demand a jam session or something of that effect though, so we'll see where the night goes."

"Sick," Milla said, grinning.

"I hear you're a cheerleading captain. Was that already a team in the school, or did you form it?"

"Actually, it was formed by a Quadling upperclassmen that's since left…"

Elphaba and Milla slipped into conversation about cheerleading as a dance from that'd originated from Quadling Country. It only existed in Crage Hall because students could start groups - with sufficient staff support - and because of the particular tenacity of the team's founder.

Galinda pitched in occasionally, but she was quite content to observe them; Mila being awkward and shy, Elphaba being intimidatingly and peculiarly stoic.

As the night went on, Shame Machine moved around the party, different members going between different people they knew throughout those loitering in the factory. Galinda and Milla remained where they were on the couches, more or less alone, talking idly.

Galinda had realised belatedly that they were testing their dynamic. Like mixing chemicals, they were seeing what levels of flirtatiousness were compatible with their current status as sort-of-enemies. Frienemies, maybe? But Milla didn't really feel like a friend.

Whatever they were doing, Galinda enjoyed it. She knew Milla did too, beneath the jabs and the teasing.

"Your lipstick is cute," Milla remarked.

"Thanks. Want some? I've got it on me."

"Sure."

Galinda pulled it out of her purse. She uncapped it and touched Milla's chin, turning to face her. "Open your lips a little."

"You're gonna put it on me?"

"I promise I'm good at it."

"I'm sure you are." Galinda applied the lipstick quickly and cleanly, and gestured for Milla to pop her lips. She held up the compact for Milla to look at herself. "Not my usual colour."

"I think something more matte would suit you better," Galinda mused. She shut the compact and tucked the items back into her purse. "Do you wear make up a lot?"

"I usually just line my eyes and darken my brows. They almost disappear when I don't," Milla grumbled. 

"Really?"

"Mm. I used to wear concealer for the acne, but I don't have the energy to be that insecure anymore."

"I personally think pizza face is a look," Galinda said with a smirk. Milla narrowed her eyes at her.

"Wow. I'm so relieved to hear that. And hey, because I know you worry, the whole boring, conventionally attractive white girl face is super in fashion. Really, you'll go far."

Galinda glared back.

"You're so mad," Milla said, her voice bright with amusement.

Galinda brushed her hair from her face, crossing her legs and folding her arms. "Going for the jugular, huh?"

"Please, you know you're beautiful," Milla said dismissively. Galinda rolled her eyes, but it was enough reassurance to stop her being genuinely hurt. "It's warm, huh. It's midnight, and I swear it's still in the thirties."

"It's like, twenty five degrees max. But yeah, it sucks."

"I'm down with the heat. Reminds me of Munchkinland. I lived in the south, toward Q.C. It gets _so_ humid down there…"

"I never noticed your hair was shaved," Galinda said, having gotten distracted by the little ponytail on Milla's head, which had then lead her to notice the part shave on the back of her head.

Milla touched it. "Oh, yeah. I hide it at school. For obvious reasons."

"Mm," Galinda intoned, her nose scrunching. "I don't get that trend at all. The shaving trend. Like, if you want to look like a medical patient, go for it I guess?"

Milla shook her head. "You're such a fucking prep."

"What's the appeal, though? Tell me. I'm truly curious."

Milla counted off on her fingers. "It looks interesting, it's cooler in summer, it feels nice to touch and to be touched, and it broadcasts how queer I am. All great reasons to have it. Satisfied, princess?"

"It feels nice to be touched?" Galinda asked.

"Yeah. It feels really nice."

Galinda ran her hand over the shave. It did feel nice, especially with how thick Milla's hairs were. She scratched at it, and Milla leaned into her hand, her eyes closed, her face content. Galinda felt the pull of a grin at her lips, just from how cute it was.

She dropped her hand. "You look like a dog getting your ears scratched."

Milla eyed her with barely genuine annoyance. "Shut up. It feels nice, right?"

Galinda shrugged nonchalantly. "It feels fine."

"You love it. You think I'm cute." Galinda sneered. Milla smirked triumphantly, quietly murmuring, "knew it."

They got up to dance together once a song more to Galinda's taste came on, face to face with their hands on each others hips and waists and shoulders. The party wound down slowly. The performers became softer or more experimental, and finally petered off to a dj playing chillwave and lofi from a playlist. Those who hadn't already left grouped up across the factory floor, people going between them, leaving and returning with beer and liquor from a nearby bottle shop. They found themselves back on the couches, engaging in conversation with Elphaba again.

They were awfully smart. As the night went on they seemed to become more and more comfortable, and talked more and more about the many things they knew. Galinda had tuned out quite a bit of it, most of it going over her head, some of it just downright boring. It was about biology, maybe. She barely knew.

There was something about they way they spoke, however. Something about their passion for whatever they were babbling about was very charming. And so Galinda just watched them, deaf to their actual message, as the others carried on the discussion.

"I feel like singing," Fiyero announced. This was met with cheers from the band.

"Fiyero _never_ sings," Crope said to her with a grin. "No matter how we talk him into it, he never does it. Unless he's drunk. Case in point."

"Only!" Fiyero called. "Only if you sing with me, my friends. Fae."

"I knew this would happen," Elphaba muttered.

"So you're ready for it then. Come on. We can sing a cover of something fun."

"No screaming?" Galinda asked. They glanced at her, and she flushed, and felt very separate from them. Excluded, really. It wasn't a feeling she was used to.

"I don't scream without the appropriate instruments behind me," Elphaba said. "Alright, fine. How about - Crope, Tibbs, Boq, you clap a beat. Maybe on the ground, like this…" Elphaba slapped the ground with their hands in a simple repetitive beat. Elphaba and Fiyero clapped along.

As they established the beat they'd created, the people left strewn about the building noticed, sitting up or coming over to watch. Some of them joined in clapping. Elphaba hummed some tune, and their band perked up, recognizing whatever it was. They all hummed along.

Finally, Elphaba sang, their voice clear and piercing and distinctive, completely unlike what Galinda would have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in the illustrations are from 2080 by Yeasayer.


	6. Better Than

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Better Than Me by Blood Orange! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUhFU-czesk
> 
> Warning for light drug use, self harm discussion and like ... So Many Self Esteem Issues.

Elphaba was sitting in a bathtub. They had never done that before. They technically could have had a bath, as long as they took their meds and lathered their skin thoroughly beforehand, but they'd never felt much of a desire to. But here they were, in a bathtub. Though it held little more than grime, plaster flecks and other unidentifiable forms of dirt that had accumulated over the years.

The enamel bath was covered in chips, rust and water stains that must have taken decades to grow. It sat in the middle of the lounge room of an abandoned house. Lord knew how it got there, it certainly wasn't bolted to the ground. The house was otherwise bare, except for a bike propped against a wall, a crock pot sitting on the mantelpiece - it must have been thirty or forty years old - and an old wall phone. Elphaba had wandered in and set up camp rather than endure the party going on further into the farm. They had just concluded a performance.

Elphaba was loath to admit it, but it wasn't just their usual antisocial nature that had driven them here. They were brooding. They'd made several mistakes while singing that night, and had behaved inappropriately, and they didn't understand why. The rest of the band had noticed, all of them eyeing Elphaba but not saying anything. Elphaba hated that reaction most of all. They would rather their band just told them what was wrong rather than slinking around them trying to spare their feelings.

"There you are." Elphaba looked up to see Fiyero peering around the door. He came in, a smiling Sarima behind him. "What are you doing here all alone?"

Elphaba stretched out in the bath, folding their arms behind their head. "Relaxing."

"There's a party, in case you were wondering," Fiyero teased with no real intent to move Elphaba. He was already sitting beside the bath, Sarima following. Both of them were inelegant and clearly a bit drunk.

"The real question is what _you two_ are doing here. There's a party, no?"

"We missed you," Sarima said with a smile. Elphaba scoffed softly.

"Exactly! It's not a perfect night out without a word with our favourite green person." Fiyero draped his arms over the bath side, peering into it. "Tonight's performance was a bit odd."

Elphaba worked their jaw slightly. "I hated it."

Fiyero lifted his brows. "I don't think it was bad. Who sounded off?"

"No one but myself."

Fiyero made a comprehending hum. "I knew you'd come here to brood."

"Shut up."

"Prove me wrong." He smiled tightly. "You were fine. You were lacking a little flare is all. Like you weren't having as much fun."

Elphaba stared at their feet, nudging around bath dirt. "I've been distracted lately."

"Distracted, or disheartened?"

Elphaba looked at him. "Not disheartened," they said, and opened their mouth to continue, but they caught Sarima's eye. They shook their head instead. "Distracted."

"Huh." Fiyero jerked up, staring wide eyed between Sarima and Elphaba. "Oh! Oh, Sari, tell them the story - tell Fae the thing!"

"Oh god," Sarima said, her face in her hand.

"What's this?"

"It's _hilarious_ Sari, please, please."

Sarima looked at Elphaba, who gave her an encouraging arch of their brow. "Alright, alright. So me and mum got in a conversation about kids, because my brother introduced his girlfriend to them."

"A kids talk," Fiyero put in, already on the edge of laughter.

"I told her I wasn't really sure about all that. I didn't know if I wanted to raise children because it would interrupt my music career, right? Not the whole truth, but true enough. She starts to panic a bit."

"Very predictable."

"The most predictable. She grabs me, and says - Elphie, I'm not kidding - she grabs me and says, 'Maybe you can make a baby with Yero? Don't even get married, just have a baby with him and I can take care of it, he'll do it I think because Yero is a good boy-" Sarima descended into laughter, Fiyero on the floor in fits beside her. "Yero is a good boy! I'll take care of it!'"

"Oh my god," Elphaba managed. "Was she - she was serious?"

"Yes! Partly, yes! She was laughing as she said it but in that crazed way like it's not really a joke-"

"Fuck," Fiyero gasped, gripping his side. "I fucking love it! I love it. Let's make a baby. Let's give your desperate mum a baby."

"She's so desperate," Sarima sighed, wiping tears from her eyes. "I don't know what's gonna happen when I tell her I'm bi. I think she'll pass out."

"You know what she'll do. She'll go, 'you still like boys! You can still be with Yero!'"

Sarima groaned. "God, she will. She's so keen on us being together." Sarima looked at Elphaba, her eyebrows raised. "It's the tattoos. She did that church thing where she makes them into a spiritual sign."

"Doesn't she hate them?"

"Of course. But she's making the best out of it, you know? She says it's _providence_. A sign we're made for each other. Not like we got them independently because blue diamonds are a traditional Arjiki symbol and we want to connect to our heritage, which we've been completely removed from with no choice in the matter..." Sarima finished her drink and scowled. Fiyero rubbed her back with a kind, sad smile.

"What does your dad think of them?"

"He's never said. I think he's secretly proud. It's mum that doesn't get it. She's a Munchkinlander in Munchkinland. Well, was. But even being in Shiz she doesn't really get it."

"It's different," Fiyero said.

Sarima peered at him. "Your dad didn't like yours, did he?"

Fiyero shook his head. "He said it was an insult to the messiah. That we have to let go of earthly culture to form a new heavenly culture-" Fiyero sighed. "Typical church bullshit. I thought he'd get it since he has them himself, but... Mum was better. Told me she understood why, even though she didn't really approve." Fiyero looked at Sarima with a little smile. "She said you were very bold."

"Let me guess-"

"She said we were clearly made for eachother." They both laughed and groaned, exasperated.

"They're as worse as each other."

"If only they knew what I was already doing," Fiyero murmured. "They'd lose it."

"They might just die from shock," Elphaba put in.

"Their son, having literal drug-fueled gay orgies with his multiple personfriends? Very illegal. Very sinful."

Elphaba gripped the bath, leaning toward him. " _Fallen._ A lifetime's worth of indemnity."

"Oh my god," Sarima laughed.

"I'd be sent to Colwen Grounds for forty days."

"At least."

"Praying, bowing, fasting, singing hymns, getting hit by a bunch of strangers - the whole nine yards."

"You'd get that flu that everyone that goes there gets," Sarima contributed.

"Right! Because we all sleep in the same huge hall, get barely five hours a night and eat way too little food."

"You'll lose a startling amount of weight."

"Don't even joke about that," Fiyero warned, touching his stomach. "I'm working toward bear status. If I lose mass, I'm just an otter. I'll lose my identity."

"I'm aware," Elphaba said.

Fiyero downed his drink, then pouted into the empty cup. "Damn. I'm gonna go get another drink. And get back to dancing. Speaking of-" He tugged a little baggy out of his pocket, wiggling it between them.

"Pingers?" Elphaba asked, looking from the little white pills to him.

"You know it."

"I'll pass," they sighed, sliding further into the empty bath.

"Sari?"

"Well…"

"I can keep an eye on you, I promise." Fiyero _was_ a very reliable back up with these things.

Sarima shrugged. "Alright. Just one."

"Of course." He shook one out onto her palm and two himself. Fiyero levelled her with a look. "Have you done this before?"

"I have not."

"Alright. You'll start to feel it in about an hour, and it will last six hours or so. If you have a good trip, you'll get hallucinations, sensory heightening, and you'll feel _really_ good. Possible bad side effects are stuff like paranoia, memory bullshit, teeth grinding, blurred vision, and sweating. If your heart starts going wild, don't worry - it's the ex. If you experience any of those, let me know. Try to drink a lot of water because dehydration is way easy." Fiyero gave her a reassuring smile. "Sound okay?"

Sarima nodded. They dry swallowed them together.

He stood up and grinned at the two of them. "Sari, come find me in an hour, okay?"

"Alright."

"Later losers." Then he was off, party animal that he was.

Fiyero was a quiet and graceful young man that was happy to watch his friends interact, until he was at a party. He threw himself into them with an enthusiasm that was concerning, surrounding himself with nothing but sound and light. It was a behaviour that had developed almost overnight from Elphaba's memory. When he was sixteen he'd play soccer and halo and practice the drums. Then he'd hit seventeen, and developed into the raver he was now. It was - not coincidentally - the same year his father had returned from missionary work in Q. C.

The two of them had been friends instantly at six years old, but even before the raving Fiyero hadn't had the patience for deep, one on one conversations. He flourished in groups, not as the centre of attention but simply as a participant in a larger communion. These differences had never managed to weaken their friendship. they had been bonded forever by their shared childhood - Elphaba saw it more like shared trauma - and furthermore by the fact that they had both looked about twenty-four by the time they were sixteen. Boq had the same closeness to the both of them, even lacking their scarily rapid growth. They were siblings, really. Elphaba couldn't see them any other way.

Fiyero's departure left Sarima and Elphaba alone in an awkward silence. Elphaba fiddled with the hair tie around their wrist. Sarima cleared her throat. "I feel a bit nervous about the pingers."

Elphaba made a gentle, dismissive noise. "They're really safe."

"I know."

"First time taking pills, huh?" Elphaba smirked at her. "Very illegal."

"I'm a naughty girl," Sarima drawled, grinning suggestively. Elphaba flustered and laughed shortly, mostly in disbelief. Sarima covered her face with her hands. "Oh god. I'm drunk," she said, dropping her hands so she was peering at them.

"You are."

Sarima leaned on the bath side, her eye wandering off. She refocused on Elphaba. "How are you, Elphie?"

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. How are you?"

"Good. But," Sarima propped her head on her fist and pouted, like a confused child. "I want to kiss you, but I don't know if I should."

Elphaba swallowed. "I see."

"Because, you know, it's you. I can never tell what you want. You're so closed, Elphie," Sarima sighed, her chin resting on her arms, which were now folded over each other on the bath side. "So quiet. Even now I don't know."

"I'm sorry," Elphaba said, and they meant it.

"It's okay. It's sexy, kind of. Mysterious."

"Sexy," Elphaba said, testing the word. A heat had began the second Sarima had said the word 'naughty' - what were they, _twelve?_ \- and sat in their chest. Or beneath their chest, like it was tucked under their lungs and heart. It flared up as they thought it - _sexy_ , they were _sexy?_ Impossible.

It was a familiar heat. It was a heat they were experiencing more and more. They controlled it sometimes - they had controlled it, once. Lately it wasn't so easy. It always developed, spreading through their chest and their belly, pulling at the most intimate parts of them, suffusing them with warmth. It was restless. It felt like a force greater than their own mind was occupying their body.

Elphaba _hated_ it. Elphaba hated anything that weakened their control.

But it was so difficult, sometimes it felt impossible to hold it at bay. Sarima's eyes were roaming over Elphaba unashamedly. Their eyes met. Hers were a clear blue. A calming colour. Elphaba's iron grip of control loosened ever so slightly, allowing an inch of indulgence, like a thread uncoiling from a spool. A single look had done it. They were that weak.

Elphaba sat up, leaning over their knees. Sarima rose, watching them intently. They drifted forward, more intentionally than Elphaba had read it should be. Elphaba paused, wetted their lips distractedly. Finally - slowly, hesitantly - Elphaba pressed their mouth to Sarima's, their eyes closing.

This time, it wasn't just one kiss. They parted, and met again, and Elphaba kept their eyes open, looking at Sarima closer than they'd ever looked at anyone. They saw the shadows cast by her eyelashes onto the soft curve of her cheek. They saw faint freckles they'd never noticed before, rendered near invisible by her tan. They felt Sarima's tongue touch their lip, and they almost flinched.

The kisses became more openmouthed, more involved. Elphaba's eyes closed so they could focus on the soft locking of their lips, the occasional brush of their tongues. One kiss caused an unexpectedly loud, wet, suction kind of sound. Elphaba stiffened automatically, effectively interrupting the kiss.

Sarima leaned away minutely, giggling. Elphaba relaxed, figuring that was normal from the reaction.

It was pleasant, but Sarima's hands kept distracting them. Her hands were on their neck, the back of their head, their chest; they made Elphaba's skin burn. Elphaba kept taking them and moving them to the bath or to their arms, where they couldn't feel it so strongly. But they kept moving.

Elphaba drew away when they couldn't stand the contact anymore. The kissing felt uncomfortable on Elphaba's skin even as their body rose to it, a confusing clash of sensations. Elphaba sat back, Sarima smiling happily at them.

"What?" Elphaba asked wryly.

"Your kissing is just… very you." Elphaba arched a brow. "Intense."

"Ah." Elphaba glanced about. "Is that… good?"

Sarima shrugged. "Sure. It's as good as any way someone kisses. It's just funny that it's so obviously you."

"I see."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," Elphaba said quickly. They weren't sure if they did. They were disassociating, they realised. They were torn between relief and frustration, being numbed to their own arousal in such a way. "Yes, that was… interesting."

Sarima's smile dampened. "Interesting?"

"Fun. It was good," Elphaba reassured her, seeing her wilt somewhat. "Thank you. Thank you for kissing me, it's … it is fun, isn't it?"

Sarima laughed slightly, then furrowed her brow, puzzled. Her face slowly shifted, realisation dawning. "That was your first kiss," Sarima said slowly. "The kiss before. My kiss - that was your first…"

Elphaba nodded.

Sarima was very quiet. She just stared at Elphaba, seemingly speechless. "Sarima?" Elphaba said. "Did the ex kick in?" They joked.

"No," Sarima said quickly. "No, I just… can't believe that."

Elphaba shrugged their shoulders. "I wasn't lying. When I said it was rare to be attracted to me."

Sarima grimaced. "I don't accept that answer," she said firmly. "And it doesn't matter when your first kiss was." Her face fell. "Shit. I kissed you so forcefully, though. I just thought you must have kissed before. I'm sorry, Elphie."

"It's fine," Elphaba said.

Sarima gazed at Elphaba. "Strange," she said softly, distractedly. "I thought you'd be so experienced. That I'd have to keep up with you."

Elphaba felt a shadow of an emotion, like a phantom pain, even with the disassociation. "I apologise for disappointing you."

Sarima's eyes widened. "I'm not disappointed-"

"It's fine."

"I'm not. Elphie," she said, covering their hand with hers. "No. I'm not disappointed."

Elphaba turned their hand beneath Sarima's, and the contrast in size and structure disconcerted them. Their hand was and wasn't theirs simultaneously. They drew the hand away. Sarima looked hurt. Elphaba couldn't really care.

"I'm going to get a drink." They watched Sarima leave.

They exhaled harshly, pressing their hands to their face. They didn't even know what they were feeling, but it was suddenly crashing over them. They forced it down, taking deep breaths.

When they were finally calm, they climbed out of the bath. They left the house and meandered up the dirt road leading to the party proper.

As they walked, they spotted a brief light flare within the dark alcove of a low-hanging tree off the path, and squinted into it, trying to tell who it was. Their vague silhouette waved at Elphaba, and they recognised the height and figure of them. They went over to confirm.

"Boq," they said once they were close enough. It was a relief just to see him, somehow. He was a very stabilising person.

"Hey." He took a drag of the cigarette between his fingers. "Taking a breather?"

"I was."

"You're willingly going back?"

Elphaba glanced at the party. They ducked into the branch cover to join him, and peered up into the tree. A Gillikin willow. "Don't you just hate these things?" Elphaba asked, because Boq was an environmental science major, and because Gillikin willows were a notoriously invasive species back in Munchkinland. 

"They're not doing any damage here in the north," Boq said, peering at the tree. "But I know what you mean. Dad found one growing by the stream at the farm."

"Shit. How'd it get there?"

"The people a few acres north had one. A branch drifted down stream. He's killed it," Boq said. "And he got them to kill theirs. They didn't know what they do to the water."

Elphaba hummed. "How's your course going?"

"Pretty good," Boq sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"Workload let up?"

"Not really. This semester is more about science rather than marketing at least. The irrigation and microbiology parts are particularly interesting."

Elphaba nodded slowly. "You look tired as hell."

Boq laughed, choking on the smoke still in his lungs as he did. Elphaba slapped his back firmly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's stress. Ever since I moved up here, I swear the family has had disaster after disaster. Mum and dad found out about Broden's girlfriend…"

"I bet that went well," Elphaba remarked. Boq gave them a wide eyed look.

"He was nearly shunned. You know how my sisters are with the guilt."

"Four sex-shaming sisters," Elphaba said with a kind of sympathetic amusement. "Poor boy."

"They were crying. My sisters. Crying. God, and mum," Boq said, shaking his head. "She was inconsolable."

"Talla wasn't crying, though-"

"Of course not." Boq smiled with an exasperated fondness. "Talla got caught with whiskey in her room. Dad poured it down the drain. She'd bought it with her own money - she was ready to murder him."

"They're useless without you." Boq looked at Elphaba pathetically. "Oh, Boq. You're not going to cry, are you?"

Boq sniffled. "I just miss them."

Elphaba wrapped their arm about his shoulders, rubbing him briskly. "Better out then in."

He shook and sniffled against their shoulder. He exhaled wetly a short while later, drawing away from them. "I miss Munchkinland. I miss the food and the sounds of everything. I miss cicadas." He blew his nose into a tissue he'd fished from his pocket. "And there's the family, Of course. I'm still not used to being apart from them. You don't know what it's like, with that many siblings, all on top of each other all the time."

"You've always been a strangely close bunch of siblings," Elphaba mused. "So affectionate."

"We were all each other's best friends." Boq nudged them. "Other than you and Yero of course."

"Of course," Elphaba said.

"Is this separation anxiety?" Boq speculated to himself.

"More like empty nest syndrome. You need a new brood of siblings to keep in check." Elphaba perked up. " _That's_ why you've been such a good manager lately!"

"Oh shut up," Boq muttered affectionately.

"I'll be a mess and make your job as difficult as possible, and you'll have someone to worry about again. Sound good?"

"I already worry about you."

"You and the whole damn band," Elphaba said, scowling to themself. "What's wrong with all of you? I'm an adult."

"You are," Boq said, frowning. He tapped the ashes off his cigarette and took a last drag, then crushed it against the tree. "We just love you, Elphie. Simple as that."

"Disgusting."

"You love us too."

Elphaba turned their cheek to him.

* * *

 

They couldn't sleep. It had felt like hours and they couldn't fucking sleep.

Images and thoughts they called up to fight the images turned endlessly in their head. They tossed onto their side, pushing the covers further off their body - they were burning. They rubbed firmly at their shoulder, but that part of them barely had feeling. Their skin was on hyper alert everywhere else. They raked their numb skin with their nails.

It didn't help anymore. They considered using their teeth. They hadn't in years, and it would only fuck up their arms more. They groaned quietly in frustration. Like an idiot, they turned onto their stomach, and felt a jolt of pleasure rip through them. They automatically pressed their hips down into the bed. They exhaled shakily.

The thread tumbled from the spool, the fire was roaring, they were overwhelmed, or whatever the fuck. They were grinding their cock into their mattress, and they felt pathetic. They were flushed as much with embarrassment than with pleasure. The cycling of their thoughts kept stopping and starting, fantasies and sensations interrupted by abrupt barricades of self awareness. They came close - they could feel they were on the cusp - and for a moment their mind was blank, their vision nothing but pink. Hot pink.

Then, they hit the wall.

They went still. They lifted their head from their pillow, which was warm and damp from their mouth, felt disgusting against their cheek. They rolled onto their side. They readjusted their underwear, careful to keep a light touch.

Their blood still rushed violently through their veins. They waited until their heart beat wasn't so strong, until they weren't so hard or sensitive. Once it had passed, the images that had been turning in their head became revolting to them. They felt sick with guilt, or shame, or both. The kind of nausea that seemed to move like a large rock sinking in their stomach. They felt it in their throat.

They stood up and opened the window, leaning out into the freezing cold night air. They breathed in and out. They probably wouldn't vomit. They looked down at the narrow passage going along the side of their apartment building. They leaned out further, and balanced on their arms in limbo.

They fell softly back into their room, sighing. They closed the window and fetched their copy of the Divine Principle. They settled onto the floor and read until they couldn't stand to anymore.

* * *

 

Elphaba had woken up after four hours of sleep with cum in their boxers and a headache.

The headache followed them right into the evening. They were being forced by Crope and Tibbett to go to Sarima's latest set. Not that Elphaba didn't enjoy Sarima's performances - they did, even though Sarima's music wasn't really their taste - but ever since the farm party Elphaba had been more distracted than ever.

"What does that _mean_ , exactly?" Crope asked as they walked along Napier street leisurely, enjoying the cool summer night. "Distracted by what? Distracted _from_ what?"

"Distracted from everything."

"By?"

Elphaba huffed. Crope squinted at them.

"You know what I think."

"I can guess," Elphaba muttered.

"I think you're frustrated," Crope said sagely. "I think you're sexually frustrated, and you don't know what it is or what to do with it."

Elphaba scowled, and walked ahead of them, forcing the girls to catch up. "I'm not hearing this."

"You told me yourself your hormone production has always been off the charts."

"I wish I hadn't told you," Elphaba said mildly. "If I'd known you'd use that information as the basis of such ridiculous theories…"

"Elphie," Crope said, hurt and chastened at once. Elphaba stopped and looked at her. "The production of androgens _will_ effect your libido. If you've never even masturbated-"

"You've never masturbated?" Tibbett said in gentle disbelief.

"Lots of people don't masturbate!" Elphaba cried, and went back on their way, attempting to exit the awful conversation.

"Well, that's true," Tibbett reasoned to Crope.

"Because it wouldn't offer them anything! Fae, you are _super_ tense, and you've only gotten more tense this last month. I really believe it could help."

"I'm fine," Elphaba said firmly. Crope came close to their side, holding their arm.

"Self harming to resist isn't fine," she said. Elphaba snatched their arm away, rounding on her with a glare.

" _Shut up_."

"Elphaba, _please_ ," Crope begged.

Elphaba charged off toward The Reverence. They heard Crope and Tibbett conferring behind them, and wondered who Crope may have told. The two of them weren't exactly a high security vault when it came to gossip. But they cared deeply about their friends, and usually had the sense to know where and when not to talk.

At the back of the Reverence was the stage. It was a dark, soundproofed little hall, and it was currently half stuffed with people. They were mostly hipsters or neopagans, swaying to the pre-show music or buying beer at the bar at the side of the room while the lights were still up. Elphaba bought a pint and lost themself in the crowd, to avoid Crope and Tibbett accosting them again.

Sarima come on stage to set up her keyboard and soundpads. Sarima's eyes flickered over the crowd distractedly, and did a double take past and back to Elphaba, her face lighting up. Elphaba gave a little wave, then pushed to the front of the crowd when Sarima came down to the edge of the stage.

"Hey," Sarima said, leaning to kiss Elphaba's cheek so smoothly Elphaba didn't have time to be shy. "You came with Crope and Tibbett?"

"Yes, though I'm not sure where they are."

Sarima surveyed the room. "They're at the bar."

"Ah. Don't give me away." Sarima frowned at them curiously. "We're just having a tiff."

"Alright." Sarima glanced back at the equipment and got to her feet. "I'll see you after? Maybe we can get dinner or something…"

"Sure," Elphaba said.

"Find me in the equipment room, okay?" Sarima waved and little and continued setting up. Elphaba melted back into the crowd as best they could, and waited for the show to commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration lyrics taken from Elemental by Willow Beats. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ2GcNs_aXI


	7. Just What You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: B Ur Boo by Alunageorge! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7J3l3Dh654
> 
> Warning for just Immediate Very Nsfw art, brief discussions of disordered eating and abuse themes. (Don't worry, those things are very separate.)

 

"Thank god you're a top, Milla."

Milla lounged by the pool, nude and soaking in the sun. Beneath the sunlight, covered in glitter from the bath bomb they'd used last night, she looked like she was made of gold. Galinda admired her from a reclining pool chair, a glass of white wine in her hand.

Milla leaned up on her elbow and peered at Galinda with a grin. "I'm not usually, actually. My partner is... well, a dominatrix. Thank god _you're_ a sub."

"Huh. We're in the same situation."

Milla's eyebrows rose. "Wait, you mean Avaric is a huge dom, or… a huge sub?"

Galinda paused, realising her mistake. _Too late now_ , she thought. She was sick of keeping it to herself. "A huge sub."

Milla's mouth dropped open. "Oh, I _love_ that." Milla lay back down. "What kind of sub? Does he just like to be under you, or does he like being told what to do… being made helpless, perhaps? I can see that."

Galinda cleared her throat. "All of the above."

Milla turned over to face her properly. "Is he kinky?" she asked, quiet in a ravenously curious sort of way.

Galinda took her time answering, to tease her. "... Yes."

Milla sighed happily, folding her arms beneath her chin and laying so her face was tilted out of Galinda's view. "Sometimes, the world just gives you things." Galinda chuckled. "I'm too curious," Milla said indulgently. "What kind of kinky are we talking?"

Now that Galinda had let the secret slip, she couldn't find the will to hold back the rest. "We've tried just about everything," Galinda said sheepishly. "Except scat. Not our taste."

"Watersports, though?"

"Once," Galinda admitted.

"Hah!"

"Usually we use ropes if we have the time or leather if we don't."

"You know how to do ropes?"

"I do. I'm pretty good at them, actually."

"I've always wanted to try them," Milla said idly. "How about latex?"

"Sometimes latex, but that was more about aesthetics."

"Of course you care about how aesthetic your sex is," Milla muttered.

"Well, we often record ourselves…"

"You like to make sex tapes?"

Galinda blushed at having Milla's eyes on her as she answered. "I love to."

Milla glanced her over, then lay her head back down. "Should have seen that coming."

Galinda scoffed gently. She remembered belatedly what she'd promised Avaric. "Oh. Avaric asked me to ask you if you'd be open to a threesome."

"God no," Milla muttered with disgust.

"Thought so."

"Why ask then?"

Galinda felt a little tug of guilt. "Well, I may have let him believe you'd be open to it so he'd let me see you…"

"You sneaky bitch," Milla said with amusement. 

"You're not mad?"

"Not really."

"But you were mad when we kissed before."

"You lying to him is about you two. When you cheat on him with me, you're dragging me into the drama, and I am not into _that_." Milla peered up at her. "For the record, I do not endorse lying to your partner, but I also don't endorse anyone ever dating Avaric."

"Right," Galinda said exasperatedly. She lay her head back and pulled her sunglasses down from her brow. She stared sideways out over the clear blue pool. It'd just been cleaned. She watched Milla tear off a strip of wood grape and rosemary bread that Ama Clutch had made them, and eat it with olive oil and dukkah. Ama Clutch was inside, either on her laptop or laughing wheezily over whatever daytime tv was on. She was obligated to stay for a certain number of hours - Mama and Pop's version of parenting - and she had been reliably unobtrusive. Galinda really did adore the woman.

"What's your partner like?" Galinda asked.

"Dee? She's a cunt and I love her," Milla said fondly.

Galinda contained her reaction to Milla's language. "Is she your only partner, or…?"

"She's the only person I'm actually _dating_ , yes."

Galinda weighed up asking or not asking something that could potentially offend. Milla had been patient enough so far. "I'm surprised she's okay with you being here, like this, with someone she's never even met."

"If we ever became romantic, it would be an issue. But we're friends, yes?" Milla's brow furrowed. "Well… sort of friends."

"Barely."

"Whatever. We're not romantic. But you must tell me if you ever start to get feelings," Milla said firmly. "I would never want to betray Dee, even accidentally."

Galinda arched a brow. "Alright."

Milla nodded, and rolled onto her back again. "I'm meeting with Crope, Tibbett and Sarima on Thursday. You know, the ones you met yesterday? They're Kumbric sisters. You can come if you'd like."

"I've been invited?" Galinda asked with surprise.

"By me, yes," Milla said lazily.

"Why?"

"You need to talk to more queer people. It'll do you good."

"I see," Galinda said. She sipped her wine thoughtfully. "... Alright. Yes, I'll come."

"Nice."

"What is a Kumbric Sister, by the way?"

Milla laughed. "You have so much to learn, princess."

* * *

Galinda and Milla were sat outside a cafe on Thursday afternoon. They were each working through their respective coffees, engaging in a discussion that fell into the realm of feminism, as well as linguistics, Galinda supposed.

"Why use _that_ word? It's so crude," Galinda insisted. "And it's been used against women ever since its inception. It's demeaning."

"Like any other word that is used against a marginalised group, it can be reclaimed," Milla responded. "And I think it's important it is reclaimed. There are no good, varied words for vagina like there is for penis. We're still barely acknowledging vaginas in our language. Even as a clinical term vagina isn't used properly! We should be calling them vulvas-"

"What has this got to do with the 'c' word?"

"It's a strong, punchy, non-medical term for a vagina. Like dick or cock or the million other terms for penises. We need cunt. It's a lone soldier in the anatomy war."

Galinda supposed she could see Milla's point. "I can't help but find it upsetting," Galinda said. "It sounds violent to me."

"That's why it should be reclaimed. My friends and I don't use it as an insult. It's just another word for a vagina, you know? Because it shouldn't be degrading."

Galinda grimaced. "I'm sorry. I just can't appreciate it."

"I'll try not to use it around you."

"Thank you…" They were interrupted by the arrival of the other Kumbric sisters. Milla greeted all of them enthusiastically, helping them drag over a table to sit at. The three of them eyed Galinda curiously, and gave her lukewarm greetings.

"I invited Galinda," Milla said casually. "She doesn't know anything about Kumbrica, so I thought it might be interesting to introduce her to it."

"Oh?" Tibbett said, looking at Galinda brightly. "Were you already curious?"

"I'm afraid I don't know enough to be curious," Galinda said with an unsure smile. She hadn't been aware that was Milla's reason for inviting her, unless Milla was lying. "I know of Kumbrica, of course, but…"

The girls glanced at each other. Crope leaned forward. "As Kumbric witches, we are worshippers of Kumbrica," she said. "It's as simple as that. We gain inspiration and strength from her image and from our bond as sisters."

"It's something to help centre yourself on," Sarima said, not actually looking at Galinda as she fiddled with the sugar packet.

"It's something to bring us together too," Tibbett added with a smile. "Our coven is very close. We see each other at least once a week."

"At least."

"And we make things together. Creation is very important to Kumbric worship," Sarima said, finally meeting Galinda's eye. "When you're creating, you're having a conversation with Kumbrica. That's always how it's felt to me, anyway."

"I see," Galinda said hesitantly. She'd never had much interaction with religious people. Though they weren't exactly old Unionist maunts.

"If you ever want to find out more, you can talk to any of us," Crope said. "We're always open to new sisters joining us." Sarima cut her eyes at Crope, who looked back, her eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. Sarima clearly didn't like Galinda very much, and was doing nothing much to hide it. She had no idea why. They'd only exchanged a handful of words.

"Thank you. I'll think about it."

A waiter came around, and the girls put in their orders for coffee and tea and desserts. From there, the conversation quickly turned to gossip. Galinda suspected the Kumbric sisters had a very healthy relationship to gossip.

"Elphaba is a _complete mystery_ ," Sarima said, her head in her hands. "I really can't track them at all. They're so cold and guarded, except when they're performing. I just know there's a lot going on there, but I have no idea what it is, so I can't stop stepping in it."

"You'll have to be patient with them," Tibbett said with a soft smile. "Their life has been… harder than we can imagine, I think."

"Definitely," Crope seconded.

"I know," Sarima bemoaned.

"Are we just talking about them being green and trans, or…?" Milla asked.

"There's the cult too," Sarima said. Galinda glanced around the table and saw that they were all in on what this cult was. She felt too outnumbered to ask.

"They also struggle with mental illness. But we all do that," Crope said conversationally, and laughed, Sarima, Tibbett and Milla chuckling along knowingly. Galinda laughed quietly too, feeling slightly out of her depth and very removed from the conversation.

"So, how did you step in it this week?" Crope asked Sarima with a little grin.

"Oh, you love it, don't you?"

"I do love it. I find it adorable, and I support kind people pursuing Fae."

"They're just too attractive," Sarima said, sounding exasperated at herself or Elphaba or the world for making Elphaba. "Their abs, Crope. Their abs. Gods save me."

"I hope you haven't been making remarks about their body to them," Tibbett said.

"Why?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea to talk about it to them, good or bad."

"Saying someone is attractive can't be bad-"

"Saying they're attractive is fine, of course," Crope dismissed. "Talking about specific parts of their body, or how toned they are… we're not so sure. The reason they're toned is because they're borderline malnourished, on top of that ruthless metabolism they have."

Milla leaned forward on the table, her brows furrowed. "Crope, Tibbs… are you implying that Fae may have an eating disorder?"

"We don't know," Tibbett said quickly.

"But, Goddess, look at them! How can we not worry?"

"They do have an alarming lack of body fat," Sarima said. Galinda stared at her profile. Sarima met her eye, and looked strangely defensive. _She's in love with Elphaba_ , Galinda acknowledged inwardly.

"It could just be their metabolism," Tibbett said to Crope. "With enough exercise, and the virilization…"

"Perhaps," Crope murmured. "Honestly, we're probably wrong. We just can't help but wonder."

"We're like vicarious hypochondriacs at this point," Tibbett said, with humour and genuine exhaustion.

"What's that thing you said before?" Sarima asked.

"What?"

"Virilization."

"Hormones," Tibbett and Crope answered together. "We probably shouldn't say more than that," Crope added, peering at Tibbett. She gave a sensible nod back. Galinda could guess just from the name what kind of hormones they were, and for some reason the thought made her flush.

"Since when were you two tight lipped about anything?" Milla drawled.

"We usually know where and when not to encourage certain discussions," Tibbett said. "Google is your friend, you don't need us to tell you what the term means." Tibbett paused, grimaced. "Bringing it up in relation to Elphaba was a bad idea."

Crope patted her arm. "Don't worry my love, I know you can't help yourself."

"I'm awful," Tibbett said to Galinda. "Simply terrible with secrets."

"We both are," Crope said. "Only sometimes though. Usually we're great."

"Sometimes."

"For such bad secret keepers, you sure do know a lot of secrets about everyone," Milla said.

"Honestly, gathering information on our friends is our favourite hobby."

"It's almost a kink."

"Almost."

"Anyway," Sarima said pointedly. The table was pulled back to her. "After the show - well, you know what happened. And I just don't know what to think. Their face was awful, Crope, like I'd hurt them..."

"What happened?" Milla asked. Galinda was relieved, not being in the right place to ask herself.

"Elphaba and I made out-"

"Lucky."

"- I _know_ , but when I tried to take it further… they kind of panicked. They definitely panicked." Sarima sighed silently, a slight rising and falling of her shoulders. "Obviously I'll back off, but they said they were attracted to me. They acted like it too."

"They're a complicated one… but distance is certainly the best move."

The table was silent for a long moment. Galinda looked between them, all looking thoughtful or troubled.

"... Do you think Elphaba is sex repulsed?" Sarima proposed.

"I wouldn't be surprised considering how both of you were raised," Crope said. "Elphaba was telling me a bit about it a few weeks ago. Sounds like the kind of shit that'd drive you to hate sex."

"There _are_ a lot of sex repulsed people amongst the church youth," Sarima speculated. "And a lot of ace people."

"You'll have to ask them," Tibbett said softly. "It's all speculation on our part."

"Don't they  _talk_ to anyone? How the hell do they function being so damn shut up? I mean, if they had nothing going on it would be fine, but..."

Crope and Tibbett shrugged hopelessly.

Sarima sighed. Galinda wanted to ask what ace meant, but she was too embarrassed, and figured she could ask Milla later. 

"Speaking of sex and Elphaba," Crope began, already sounding exasperated, "their ideas for the show performances are getting more and more concerning. The latest idea involves rope bondage."

"Is that really so concerning?"

"On its own, no, but with their track record…" Crope muttered.

"The Kumbrica outfit was heavily edited from Elphaba's original idea," Tibbett added. "They wanted to be wrapped in thorns."

"That would've been very dramatic," Sarima said, worry thinly veiled beneath her tone.

Crope grimaced. "Dramatic, yes, and very painful. They seem determined to endanger themself. Whether it's as a statement or something more is the concern."

"It is better than the alternative," Tibbett said to Crope.

"You assume the alternative is not occurring simultaneously."

Tibbett looked at Crope quickly, startled. She straightened up. "Whatever," she said quickly, trying to brush aside what had disturbed her. Galinda was lost.

"I'm sorry, what's the alternative?" Milla asked, just as confused.

"Even more angry blogging than they do already," Crope joked, not even trying to mask her deflection.

"Elphaba has a _blog_!?"

And so the topic was effectively changed.

They all decided to part ways after they'd had a meal and the lunch rush had ended. The cafe looked ready to close for dinner preparation. "Thanks for inviting me," Galinda said with a polite smile. "This was nice."

"Thank you for coming," Tibbett said warmly.

"I'll see you guys next Earth rite?" Milla asked. They three witches nodded back. "Sick. Good luck with the rope bondage."

"Thanks. None of us have any idea how it works, so…"

Milla looked at Galinda, smiling with her eyebrows raised. Galinda blinked back at her, confused. "Galinda might be able to help," Milla said.

Galinda's stomach dropped impulsively as Milla volunteered her, without any discussion on the matter. The three girls looked at her curiously. "Um." She shot Milla a hard look. "Yes. Yes, I am quite comfortable with rope bondage."

"We would be really, really thankful if you helped us out," Tibbett said. "It all looks very complicated."

"It is. Involves lot's of practice. Maybe we can arrange something over facebook? Or just give me your number…"

They exchanged details, Crope and Tibbett keen for the help. Galinda was slightly annoyed at Milla for not talking about it with her, but mostly because it felt close to an indirect admission of Avaric's preferences. She already regretted trusting Milla with that information. It's not like she cared at all for sparing Galinda or Avaric's reputations.

Either way, Galinda was a bit excited at the idea of helping them with the show. It would be an interesting experience.

Another benefit, however insignificant, was getting to see Fae. They may even become friends. Galinda had never had a friend as unique as them.

Yes. A very interesting experience indeed.

* * *

Galinda was draped over one of Avaric's many couches, googling virilization like the shameless gossip she was.

"Production of the hormones that mature the male body," Galinda read to herself quietly, and frowned. She was still slightly unclear as to what kind of body Elphaba had, but she'd quickly realised they would not appreciate her prying, and so she'd put it more or less out of her mind. Except in certain fantasies she may or may not have had, when she was in the bath or in bed after a long day… the specifics changed scene by scene.

If Elphaba were male as Avaric had suggested, there didn't seem to be anything remarkable about such a term being applied to them. Their body certainly seemed male. But then… no, it wasn't as straightforward as that. From the first time Galinda had seen them she had wondered.

"What's that?" Avaric asked, coming into the room from the slider doors leading outside.

Galinda sat up, closing her laptop. "Hm?"

"You said something."

"Oh. Nothing important," she dismissed with a smile. Avaric sat beside her and turned on the tv, scrolling through the channel choices.

"Grand designs?" he asked.

"Yes please." He had eased back into his better self this week, and was as charming as usual. Galinda curled up against him, her ear against his steady beating chest. He smelled like myrrh, a Vinkan perfume. "I like your cologne."

"I just bought it from Saks," he murmured. "I thought about getting this one that was like woodsmoke, but…"

"This is better."

"It really smelled like smoke. It was incredible."

Galinda peered up at him. "Just buy that one too."

"True."

They were briefly distracted by some dramatic moment in the show. Avaric complained about his day being hard, something about rough boys and teachers being bitches and cleaning toilets. "Sounds awful," she said, rubbing his chest as she successfully faked interest.

"It was."

"My week has been pretty nice. Milla hooked me up with this band. They want to learn how to do rope binding for a show."

"Huh," Avaric intoned distractedly. "Getting paid?"

"I'm not sure."

"What band?"

Galinda glanced at Avaric trepidly. She wasn't sure if he knew Fae's band. _So what if he did?_ She reasoned. _What is he going to do, stop you from going?_

She cleared her throat. "Shame Machine."

The was a pregnant pause. He looked at her eventually, his brow gently furrowed. "Shame Machine?"

"Yes."

"... Isn't that faggot Fae in that band?" he asked.

Galinda kept her calm, and levelled Avaric with a cool look. "They are, and I would appreciate it if you didn't use that language toward them."

Avaric was briefly stunned. "I'll use whatever language I want," he said, his voice still touched with surprise. "And frankly, I don't think you should do that. You're already too busy with school-" that was annoyingly true, "- and they're beneath us."

"Avaric," she said reproachfully. She knew what he meant, but saying it like that felt wrong.

"What? It's true. Can you imagine what Morrible would do if she found out you were hanging out with them? Let alone your parents."

Galinda knew he was right. That made it all the more irritating.

She had been taught, by her mother and then by Crage Hall, that a social network was a garden rather than a web. Like flora, relationships must be planted in fertile ground, nourished, protected from pests. Like flora, the surrounding earth must be weeded, the leafage pruned appropriately. Most importantly, like flora, there must eventually be a harvest. If that harvest was not worth the work to grow it, what was the point? Useless investments must be killed.

Galinda struggled to identify what she would reap from these seeds she had sowed via Milla and her own special garden of friends. In her mind's eye Galinda saw them as rose hips. They were not anything as practical as herbs or vegetation; they were blooms of varying colours and perfumes.

The harvest, then, would simply be the pleasure of their existence.

It was an indefensible reason to nurture such relationships. Mrs. Morrible and every teacher beneath her, and the best of the student body of Crage Hall, saw friends like bargaining chips. But Galinda _wanted_ to do it, more than she had previously admitted to herself. She wanted Milla, and Crope and Tibbett, and Elphaba. They were so different from anyone else she had ever known, and she knew without them her garden would be lacking. It would be the same as every other garden owned by any Crage Hall girl. Like a line of identical houses, endless stretches of suburbia. How could one bear such monotony?

Furthermore, she was very used to getting what she wanted.

"I'm sorry Avaric," she said quietly. "I'm doing it."

Avaric sighed shortly. "Galinda, please don't be this selfish."

"Selfish?" she repeated, affronted.

"Yes. You know this is going to affect my reputation. Whatever you do, whether it's friendly or just playing along to be nice, it's going to come back to me." Avaric rubbed her shoulder, his voice trying to effect warmth. "I know you've grown up like a princess, but please think about someone other than yourself."

Galinda felt her eyes sting, but remained otherwise steadfast. "I'm doing it to _help them out,_ Avaric. If they try rope bondage without someone experienced they could really hurt themselves. I won't let it affect my studies."

Avaric's face changed, like someone was turning a dial, from gentle reproach to anger. "Why are you still stuck on this?" he asked, his voice louder and firmer.

Galinda automatically felt her defenses coming up. "Because I want to, and because I can! What's your deal right now?"

"You're obviously confused about who you should be seeing, because you're talking about 'helping out' Shiz's most well known monster faggot when you're already playing around with some dyke Munchkin!"

"Oh, shut up," Galinda muttered with disgust. "It's not that dire. Please don't use that language."

He gave her that look she hated, like everything she was saying was nonsense. He grabbed her wrist as she began to stand from the couch. "I don't know why you're doing this to us, but you will regret it."

"I'm not doing _anything_ to us!"

"You're not seeing this as clearly as I am then!" he snapped.

She wrenched her wrist from his hand. "I can see fine. I just disagree with you."

He scowled, and stood up, storming past her and out of the room. A door slammed. Galinda pressed her hand to her head, sighing exhaustively.

She considered leaving. She could hear him pacing or something. She fought herself briefly, then followed the sound to the door to the study. She knocked on it.

No response. "Avaric… open the door, please?" When she got nothing, she tried the knob. It was locked. "Avaric."

"Could you not bother me?" he asked flatly. She frowned.

"I can leave if you want, but at least come out before I do."

"I'd rather not."

She leaned her head against the door. "Avaric, neither of us want to be stuck on this…"

"You won't let it affect your studies, fine. But will you let it affect us? Or is tying up monster faggots more important?"

"We spend lots of time together, Avaric."

"When did we last go on a proper date?"

Galinda thought about it impatiently. "I don't know, two weeks ago? You never ask to go on dates."

"Because I don't want to pressure you when you barely have time for me."

Galinda kept back an irritated sigh. "Most weeks, other than school, all I do is hang out and go to parties with _you_. Now please, open the door. I don't want to leave with you angry at me, I hate that."

"Are you still going to go to see Shame Machine?"

Galinda worked her jaw. "...Yes." Avaric slammed against the door so loud and sudden she jumped back.

She felt shaken. It was just a slam on a door, it was silly of her, but she went and got her things, and called for Ama Clutch.

She waited on the front lawn for her ride. It was a cold night. Summer was turning to Autumn. But the nights were never very warm in Shiz anyway. Galinda rubbed at her arms, staring up at the sky. You couldn't see the stars clear this close to Shiz city.

Her phone chimed. She read the message on the screen and felt her stomach drop and twist into itself.

 **Bae:** You're a stupid cunt for this.

She hated when he used that word. She glanced back at the house, and saw his silhouette in the lounge room window. Was he watching her? She was torn between waiting for her ride and going back to try to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to him. Just looking at him filled her with dread.

Ama Clutch pulled up. Galinda hesitated very briefly, and then got into the car.

"Alright, poppet?"

Galinda met Ama Clutch's eye in the rear view mirror. She smiled winningly. "Fine." Her phone chimed again, and she slipped it into her bag. "Just fine."


	8. Be A Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: Be A Body by Grimes. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb_0LzBv894

 

"Thank you so much for your help with this, Galinda, we'd be lost without you."

"It's no problem," Galinda said, grinning beatifically at Crope. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She was in pink, of course, in the form of a structured pencil skirt with gold buttons on it. For all Elphaba knew, they may be real gold. She wore it with a translucent white collared shirt. Simple, but pretty fancy.

Elphaba watched her from across the room as they braided their hair back. They did _not_ look at her legs, or the elegant tapering of her ankles. They certainly did not notice that Galinda's bra was dark blue and patterned with diamonds.

Elphaba came over as Tibbett and her chatted about something. "Hey."

Galinda looked up at them, her smile brightening even further. "Hey!" So perky. Elphaba didn't know how to respond to that energy level. "Excited for some bondage?"

"More than ever." They fell back on sarcasm.

"Great. Though, I doubt we'll be doing anything complicated today," Galinda said, looking between the three of them. "We may not do any bondage at all. We have plenty to do before we get to tying." Galinda lifted a sports gear bag that was by her foot. "Where are we doing this?" Crope lead them into the centre of the building.

They were using the shed of one of the properties owned by Tibbett's family. It had become their usual place for recording and band practice. The floor was cement and covered in pale dirt, the structure made of corrugated iron. Under the sun it was a hot box, so every door and window they could open was open. They didn't have any gear set up since they'd played just last night, and it was all still packed in Boq's van.

They went over to a spot in the shed where a dirty carpet and several tiles of child-safe floor sponge had been laid out. Tibbett fetched some pillows while they sat in a rough circle. "We thought this would be better than cement, considering the potential poses," Crope said gingerly.

"It's perfect," Galinda replied. She pulled out a laptop and a sketch book, and about six bundles of rope. "Alright. First things first, we need to find out if it's okay to tie you up at all."

Elphaba frowned slightly. "Okay…"

"I made this form for you to fill out. If you'd rather I just asked you all these questions I can do that too, but they're all important to know before doing any tying."

Elphaba hesitated on the form. It reminded them of a hospital. They hated hospitals. But it would get it over with faster. "I'll take the form."

It had a list of terms and boxes to check yes or no or otherwise on. Diabetes, asthma, cardiac issues, mobility issues, and more. Elphaba worked down them quickly. There were larger boxes to write inside about previous surgeries, past bone and joint injuries, mental and emotional triggers. The only ones that applied were the ones Elphaba would rather not talk about. "You'll keep this to yourself?" Elphaba asked, giving Galinda a steely look.

"I promise," Galinda said quickly. She smiled at Elphaba reassuringly. She smiled an awful lot, which annoyed Elphaba a bit. They could not tell if the smiles were genuine or not.

**_Surgeries:_ **

_\- Shoulders_

**_Injuries:_ **

_\- Dislocated shoulder (ages ago)_

_\- Nerve damage (shoulders, arms)_

_I do not have much feeling in both arms and shoulders._

**_Triggers:_ **

_\- Slapping (anywhere, especially back)_

_\- Needles_

_\- Water spray (only on skin)_

**_Allergies:_ **

_\- Water_

Galinda looked from the form up to Elphaba, her face not revealing anything but a subtle confusion.

"Well…" She checked the form again. "Depending on the ties, we will need to take some precautions." She glanced away, then leaned close to Elphaba. She whispered into their ear, inspiring a startlingly powerful shiver down their back. Elphaba was too distracted by the sensation to be grateful for the discretion. "Would you mind if I discussed the nerve damage?"

Elphaba paused for a long moment. "Yes, I do mind."

Galinda smiled politely at Crope and Tibbett. "Could we have a moment?"

The two girls exchanged looks. "Sure." They stood up and went off. Crope peered back over Galinda's head while she was distracted studying the form, and gave Elphaba a coy smile and a wink. Elphaba sneered in return. She stuck her tongue out at Elphaba as she was pulled off by an amused Tibbett.

Galinda glanced at the door they'd left from, then focused on Elphaba. "I'm going to have to test certain nerves before I do any ties that could affect them. Tying always comes with the risk of nerve damage, and that risk is even more dire if you have nerve damage already; you may not feel it until it's too late."

"I see," Elphaba said quietly. They hadn't thought about that, embarrassingly enough. "How would you test them?"

"By touching them."

"Hm." Elphaba shifted, crossing their arms and rubbing at their mouth.

"You're very uncomfortable with being touched."

"Yes," they admitted. Particularly by her.

"Then I would suggest you don't do this," Galinda said with a sorry smile. "You're not going to like the process. The preparation, the practice, the tying itself - you won't like any of it." Galinda began to stand. "I think you need to rethink this-"

"No," Elphaba said quickly. "I'll do it."

Galinda's brows furrowed gently. "Maybe you should sleep on it…"

"I will do it," Elphaba said firmly. "I know it will be uncomfortable. I am willing to work through or ignore that discomfort."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does matter!"

"Discomfort is not damage. I have endured worse, and going forward with this is my decision and my decision alone."

"Well, in my opinion that won't go very well-"

"Great. I didn't ask for your opinion." Elphaba realised they were scowling.

Galinda scowled herself. "It seems to me that you have no idea what being bound feels like, or how much trust it requires. This isn't just going to be _a bit_ uncomfortable if you don't like being touched. It's going to be potentially triggering."

"Well, let's find out."

Galinda stared at them for a moment, then huffed out a little laugh, placing her hands on her hips. "Alright. It's your performance."

"Exactly," they said shortly. "I have plans for performances far more uncomfortable than this. If I can't do this, I might as well just be entertaining people."

Galinda became curious. "Like what?"

"... You'll have to find out."

"I'll have to come see your shows then," she said with a little smile.

Elphaba smirked back. "You'll hate the music."

"Probably." Galinda glanced at the ropes at her feet. "Alright. I'm not here to talk you out of this. But because of your discomfort, and because of the nerve damage," Galinda said over Elphaba's rising protests, "we will take this slowly. When did you plan to do this show?"

"... In a couple of weeks."

"You'll have to push that back. Even if we met twice a week you'll have to. And I can't meet you twice a week. This will take at least a month."

Elphaba stared hard at Galinda. "We'll see about that."

She smiled, and this time it was so polite Elphaba knew it wasn't genuine. "Sure. You'll see that I'm right." She went for the door. "Let's get Crope and Tibbett back, yeah? And we'll figure out what ties you might want."

Galinda went off through the door. Elphaba sighed, sliding their hands back over their hair. In her absence, Elphaba became sharply aware of how Galinda had... affected them. They were relieved they'd tucked, just in case, even though it was _way_ more painful in skinny jeans. They recalled the Family Pledge they had grown up reciting, their default mood kill when they didn't have the source material in front of them.

Galinda, Crope, and Tibbett came back with a jug of iced coffee from the house proper. Elphaba stared at the jug, a safe zone. "So," Crope said, pouring them each a glass. "Had a good talk?"

"Yes," Galinda said, her tone firmly brushing the subject aside in the most pleasant way possible. "We can discuss what ties to do now. Depending on what you want, different ropes will be better for the job, and more equipment may be needed." Galinda paused. "What did you have in mind for the show?"

Elphaba looked up to see Crope and Tibbett watching them expectantly. Elphaba cleared their throat. "Well, honestly, I didn't have the clearest image in my head-"

"Let me narrow it down for you then," Galinda said, and Elphaba looked at her automatically. Goddamn it. "Is it more important that it limits your movement, or looks interesting?"

"... Both."

"But which is _more_ important?"

"I suppose the looks." Elphaba reconsidered. "... But the level of mobility adds more to the message…"

"What is the message?"

Elphaba struggled briefly. Summing up their concepts was sometimes difficult, not because they didn't have them clearly laid out in their own head but because these concepts were designed to touch on several subjects, and remain open to many potential interpretations. They searched for a summary.

"The message is that the long history of politicised organised religion has been the bedrock of Gillikin society, which is regarded as the default in Oz, and that has largely lead to the mess we have now, particularly in terms of social issues. It's impossible to separate conservatism, capitalist rhetoric, Gillikin racism or nationalism from religion because-"

"Religion is a prison," Crope said. Elphaba looked at her. "Am I wrong?"

"... Technically, no-"

"That works," Galinda said with a smile. Elphaba rolled their eyes but remained silent - it was close enough.

Galinda had a site open on her laptop that had photos of different types of ties and their variations. All of the models had bodysuits on, to Elphaba's relief. They scrolled through, Galinda explaining their differing levels restrictiveness, and how they may be altered. Galinda took note of those that caught Elphaba's eye, like the prayer tie and the star harness, which were both so thematically appropriate they seemed made for show.

The body harnesses were the most intricate ties. They involved a wide range of possible restrictiveness, from nothing to complete immobilisation. Some of them made the flesh bulge strangely, like raw sausages wrapped in string. Elphaba didn't see the appeal. It made them a little sick, in fact. Crope and Tibbett took great interest, however. "We really should try this stuff some time," Crope said, glancing at Tibbett, who nodded along.

"Make sure you do your research," Galinda warned distractedly. "Tying is more dangerous than most people think." She continued down. "These are the fully body ties. You mostly find variations on the hogtie, which you've probably seen simple versions of before."

Elphaba inspected the images in front of them. It was too elaborate for them to understand how it worked. "What are we looking at, exactly?"

"Well, this is kind of a misleading example. A hogtie is when the person's hands and ankles are tied behind their back, and then tied together. In this, they already have an elbow tie in place. But that's separate from a hogtie…"

"An elbow tie?" Elphaba asked.

"It pins someone's elbows to their sides."

"And their hands wouldn't need to be bound behind their back necessarily."

"No."

"You're thinking of having your elbows pinned with the prayer tie?" Crope asked, leaning over to meet their eye.

"Exactly. As part of a harness. I think it's better if its more elaborate, so it stands out."

"I can use a thick rope so it stands out further," Galinda suggested as she scribbled in her notebook. "It's not necessarily as good for restrictiveness, but it'll look better."

"That sounds good. I think my ankles could be tied, but maybe not my knees… Maybe both. But I have to extend my legs. And then, the star harness - could that have the elbow restrictions worked in? And you could bring me in, you two, and push me onto my knees…" They noted all of these ideas down. Galinda even sketched up a little figure, showing what it might look like.

"I like it," they decided.

"Elphie, are you sure?" Tibbett asked worriedly. "You wouldn't be able to move at all without risking a fall. I know how much you hate seeming ungraceful on stage."

Elphaba flustered a bit - they would never describe themselves as graceful in the first place. They just didn't want anything that distracted from the message. "It will limit my movement, yes. I don't see why that can't be worked around. You and Tibbett could keep me up for the start and then I'll be on my knees, like I said."

"But will you really be comfortable, being restrained to that degree?"

"That doesn't matter," they said impatiently.

"I'll make sure we work through it appropriately," Galinda told them, like a mother translating for her child. "I am very good at telling when someone is trying to hide their discomfort."

"That will definitely come in handy," Crope said, glaring playfully at Elphaba. They bared their teeth at her.

"Well, how about we try a wrist tie?" Galinda asked. "So you get an idea of the process and how it feels."

"Sure."

Galinda rummaged around in her gym bag and pulled out a pair of safety shears. She sat so she was in front of Elphaba, and unwound one of the bundles of rope she'd brought out earlier, doubling the length of rope over itself. She laid the rope by her thigh, and then wordlessly took Elphaba's hand in her own. She peered at Elphaba closely. "Alright?"

Elphaba nodded. Her fingers brushed over their wrist, and their hand closed almost into a fist as they felt a tugging sensation at their navel, a stifled twitch between their legs. 

Galinda pressed their wrist gently. "Looks like you can feel that."

"Yes."

She did the same with the other wrist, which was just as sensitive. "Hold your hands up with the fingers slightly apart," Galinda ordered distractedly, making a loop with the rope. The rope was silver, and thick, with a very intricate weave. She glanced at Elphaba's hands, and her eyebrows lifted. "You have more tattoos."

"Yes," Elphaba said, opening their hands so they were side by side with the palms up, like they were trying to catch water. The flowers tattooed on their palms were still a vivid red-pink against their green skin. "They're of camellias."

"I recognised them. We had a run down on popular flowers and their meanings last year, for events and receptions."

"I see."

Galinda looked at them almost shyly. "Why camellias?"

"They're ceremonial flowers in Munchkinland," Elphaba said, bringing their hands back together so Galinda could get on with the tying. Galinda brought the loop over their wrist.

"Ceremonial. Huh." She glanced up to meet Elphaba's eye and smiled. "They have a different meaning here."

"Really?" Elphaba asked flatly, not all that interested in Gillikin flower meanings.

"They mean passion." She cinched the loop, till the doubled up ropes were a solid band around Elphaba's wrists.

Galinda met their eye again. Elphaba felt their face become hot, though how much it showed they couldn't tell. "I had no idea," Elphaba said.

Galinda refocused on the tie. "Lucky choice, I guess." She looped the ropes over and between Elphaba's fingers so they crisscrossed over their hands, and finished the tie by bringing the robe between their palms. She held it taught and worked two fingers beneath the ropes, then tied it off at the wrist. She cut the excess rope with the safety shears. She did all of this quickly, clearly very practiced.

She finally leaned back, satisfied. She gestured at their hands. "Feel okay?"

They attempted to part their hands, and found them well and truly bound. "Feels fine."

Galinda searched their face. They remained impassive, though it was oddly difficult. They weren't sure what expression they were afraid would slip through. "... Good. Well, that's the prayer tie. I think I should be able to get a microphone in there, though it might not be as effective at actually binding your hands."

"I'm not sure what alternative we'd have."

"We could get one of those face mics." Elphaba and Galinda both looked at Crope and Tibbett sharply, having forgotten the two of them were there. Tibbett blinked. Crope looked like she was holding back laughter.

Elphaba cleared their throat. "We can't afford one of those."

"We could save up for it. It would be a good investment for future performances…"

"Maybe."

"I might be able to get you one temporarily," Galinda said. "Crage Hall's theatre department uses them."

"You have a theatre department? Is that standard for finishing schools?" Crope asked.

"It is. We have a theatre on campus, in fact."

"I doubt it would be okay to just take school property that expensive," Tibbett murmured unsurely.

"Probably not. But I might be able to get away with it. Easier to ask for forgiveness, right?" She smiled lopsidedly.

"Don't get yourself in trouble for us, but if you get the chance…"

They reassured each other it was fine a few more times. Elphaba observed quietly, their hands clammy from the closeness of their palms and from the rope Galinda had used. They suspected it was made of synthetic materials, which never felt quite right on their skin. "Is this the rope you'd use?" Elphaba asked.

"No," Galinda dismissed quickly. "This is an all purpose polypropylene rope. There are far prettier ropes than this, but it feels nice, right? Little to no friction, very soft. Plus it has that solidarity that makes you really feel it." Galinda glanced up at them with a smirk. "There are certain ropes that have more authority to them, you know? Because they don't yield. It's one of those."

"I see," Elphaba said quietly.

"We'll pick out what rope you want later. There are different ropes better for different things. Aesthetically, this isn't a very good choice."

"What's your preferred rope?"

"Probably jute. I like natural fiber ropes more in general. Jute is the best quality rope you'll find. But..." Galinda reached for one of the bundles of rope she had with her, and held it up for display. "For a more ragged aesthetic hemp is good, too."

"I see. I would prefer we used a natural rope from now on, if that's alright."

"Is it irritating your skin?"

"A bit."

"I wonder if you have an allergy," Galinda murmured as she began to untie their hands.

Elphaba answered a volley of questions. Had they felt any tingling? Had they lost any feeling? Had it been okay? They reassured her that their hands were fine, and they hadn't been uncomfortable. It wasn't all that remarkable. Perhaps they'd find it easier than they'd thought.

Galinda left right after that. She had hugged Crope and Tibbett easily, but hesitated with Elphaba - she seemed to go in for a hug and then became unsure, or reluctant, and simply smiled and waved awkwardly. A middle aged woman, a very ordinary woman, picked her up. Certainly not her mother. An ama? Did she really have an ama? The rich confused Elphaba.

Elphaba got offered a lift from Crope back to their apartment. "Sure…" They responded, and trailed off as their phone chimed. Elphaba fished it from their pocket, and saw the beginning of a facebook message from Sarima, asking if they were free tonight. Elphaba slipped their phone back into their pocket.

"Nothing important?" Crope asked.

"No."

Crope glanced at them as she drove out of the property, smiling in an uncomfortably knowing way. "What?" Elphaba asked.

"You're attracted to her."

Elphaba rubbed their forehead, exhaling silently. "And you aren't?"

"She's hot," Crope said, as if allowing the statement to pass some test. "Not as hot as some."

Elphaba stared out the window, watching cars pass and pull behind them, following the telephone wires stretched out beside the freeway. "Who do you find more attractive: Sarima, or her?" Elphaba asked.

Crope glanced at them. "...Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity."

"I personally think Sarima is much cuter."

"Hm," Elphaba intoned.

"Who do you find most attractive in our band?" Crope asked.

"You." Crope laughed at that, and Elphaba smiled. "I don't know. I don't find Boq or Fiyero attractive, they're like siblings."

"So me or Tibbett."

"I suppose so."

"Better say Tibbett, or I'll have to beat you up."

Elphaba grinned a little. "Tibbett it is. How about you?"

"Easy," she said with barely any thought.

"Other than Tibbett."

"I figured that was a given."

Elphaba looked at her, arching a brow. "Who?"

Crope glanced at them. "You, silly."

Elphaba laughed slightly, then realised Crope was serious, and looked out the forward window. "Um."

"No need to make it weird," Crope said with amusement. "I find everyone in the band attractive. Fiyero is delicious, with that body hair and that handsome face. He has total bedroom eyes. And Boq is just adorable, especially in a dress. I bet his tummy would be so soft."

"You've given this some thought."

"I have a lot of love to give."

A part of Elphaba wanted to ask what Crope was attracted to in regards to themself. She had said their name first, implying she found them particularly attractive. But they couldn't bring themself to ask, and Crope had been distracted having to navigate into the freeway. Crope's attraction to them wasn't that remarkable anyway; Crope had always been attracted to anyone she found interesting, and she had probably said Elphaba first to tease them.

They settled back into the seat, relieved and frustrated, desperate to be alone.

* * *

Elphaba leaned back on the door to their apartment. They finally relaxed, tension draining from their body viscerally. They needed time and space to process their experiences. When they didn't get that time, they began to fracture.

They made themself a pot of tea and went into their room to undress, since it was still warm, evening having not yet settled. They had habits that they knew would surprise their friends if they ever found out. A preference for nakedness was probably one of them. But clothing was unnecessary to Elphaba outside of basic decency, outward perception and warmth. If they wore anything inside, it was for guests or for sleeping through a chilly night.

They mediated between this preference and their own peculiarities by owning exactly one mirror - it was in the bathroom, and positioned in such a way that it could be avoided easily - and having their blinds down more often than not. They did not look at their own body because it did not interest them. It was the feeling that mattered.

Elphaba had many preferences such as these that they kept purely to themself. In fact, they kept almost all of their preferences and habits to themself. They didn't see the point of sharing them. An important one had slipped away from them - damn Crope and her curiosity about the cult bible - and Elphaba had found the experience very stressful, and vowed to not let it happen again. They would be careful, as always.

They put their tray of tea on the floor and got into their bed, sitting up to read. They reached for whatever book was at the top of the pile by their left side. This was always where they put whichever book was the centre of their attention at that time. It was a book about human biology that they had been enjoying, until they'd reached the chapter about developmental biology and been put off.

They flicked to where they'd marked the page, thinking their aversion might have magically dissipated since that morning. They reread the start of the chapter - a summary of its contents, about embryonic formation, hormones, growth stages - and closed it again. They put it aside, this time on the second pile. They reached for the next book, which was a text from the sixties written by a psychoanalyst about family structures.

Psychoanalysis was something Elphaba had become interested in. They had been in therapy since they were a preteen, but they had never been analysed. They were two very different services; therapy used different methods to give patients the tools to relieve or manage their own symptoms. Psychoanalysis accessed the patient's unconscious to treat disorders.

This idea of an unconscious self - a self that could not be managed, a self that could not be clearly seen but was certainly influencing their actions - was upsetting to Elphaba. They wanted to see themself with absolute clarity. They wanted to access their own parts, categorize what was helpful and what wasn't, and make themself run as efficiently and effectively as possible. So they were reading about psychoanalysis. They didn't really expect to suddenly be able to access their own unconscious - they were fairly certain that wasn't possible - but they thought it might provide some clarity, somehow.

What they found was that most of psychoanalytic theory was about parents and about sex. Those were, coincidentally, the two most fraught parts of Elphaba's life.

Of course it wasn't a coincidence. They would have to be outright lying to themself to come to such a conclusion. Most of the research Elphaba had read on the matter had shown an intrinsic link between the two. Early sexual development began with attachments made within the family. An interruption of attachments usually interrupted development. That didn't always cause problems - and those problems didn't fit one text book example, either. That clouded the issue, and made it frustrating to Elphaba.

None of this could ever be easy. None of it could be simple. It had to be wrapped up in terms Elphaba didn't know and science Elphaba couldn't afford to study. It was frustrating, because while others may have been able to let these issues lie - or simply bury them deep into some psychological chamber they wouldn't touch again until middle age - Elphaba could not. They couldn't stop thinking. About anything. Their thoughts turned so constantly, contradicting themselves and disagreeing with each other, they felt frequently disconnected from the physical world as they interacted with it. Too distracted to exist fully.

No one would describe them as distracted. No one's description of Elphaba had ever felt familiar. They could not perceive themselves from the outside and that frustrated them, too. They had only their own turning thoughts to define themself. Their identity and personality were guesswork. To Elphaba, they might as well not exist.

Their identity was Fae, more of an idea than a person.

Their personality was nebulous, observable but never experienced.

Their phone rumbled from the floor, between piles of books where it'd been discarded at some point. They reached for it and held it over their head. Another message from Sarima. Their brow furrowed.

"Fuck," they said aloud, their hands pressing into their face. They were dissociating _again_. They'd probably been dissociating since mid-way into the tying session. Probably when they'd gotten an erection just looking at Galinda.

They wondered how often you needed to dissociate to fade out of existence altogether.

"It's fine," they said quietly to themself. "You aren't a person right now. You don't need to be."

They weren't a person. They were a body. There was a strange comfort in objectification.

It was fine.

  



	9. Faking / Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Best To You by Blood Orange feat. Empress Of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACinCwmWalY
> 
> Warning for abuse themes.

Four-thirty on a tuesday afternoon, Galinda was finally playing out a fantasy she'd had for months. Soon after she had become Head Girl and gotten the keys to the prefects lounge, Galinda had thought about possible alternative uses for the room. It was one of the most discreet locations on campus. It was attached to the study centre, a building only available to third years, which was typically empty by four. Its windows were tinted and had motorised blinds. The only people that could get in or out of the lounge itself were Galinda, the prefects, and the relevant staff.

It was the perfect place for Galinda to indulge in the sort of exhibitionism she'd always wanted to.

Milla had been easy enough to convince, though she was clearly distracted by the location. There was the sound of a door opening, and she broke the kiss between her and Galinda, and leaned up on her knee, peering out the windows into the hall. Galinda followed her, to kiss the exposed column of her throat, to lick from the hollow at her collarbone to the bottom of her ear. Milla sighed, sinking down against Galinda, tilting her head to bring their mouths together again.

"Someone came into the building."

"They came in through the left wing. And we'll see them before they see us."

Milla seemed unconvinced. "How can you tell?"

"Cause I know how it sounds if they came in through the doors down the hall."

“We’re going to company soon anyway,” Milla said quietly, even as her hand rested at the edge of Galinda’s skirt.

Galinda felt a visceral and familiar swell of pleasure, and she couldn't help but grin. "I know."

That wasn't strictly true, actually. They were at risk of being seen, but it was unlikely that would be Pfannee or Shenshen. Pfannee always texted Galinda to let her know she was on her way, because she always assumed she would be there first and so she took it upon herself to rally them together. Shenshen was reliably late, and would continue to be. But there was just enough of a risk, just enough chaos within the world and its proceedings, that it had Galinda aching. She was wet enough to feel through her underwear, and she hadn't even been touched beneath her skirt.

Her phone vibrated against her hip. She pulled away reluctantly to answer it. "Damn."

"What? What happened?" Milla asked, flustered and confused.

"Pfannee's on her way."

Milla looked from the phone to her, and then rolled her eyes. "Of course. Not like you to be reckless. Not with your precious reputation."

"Indeed, what were you thinking," Galinda said back smugly, standing from the seat and turning on the kettle to make a pot of coffee, as Pfannee usually did. Just to make her squirm a little more than she already would by being later than Milla.

Galinda got out her compact and checked her makeup and hair. It wasn't too obvious, but the kissing had reddened her lips, and her hair was just a little more voluminous. All good additions, Galinda decided. She turned to Milla. "I don't look too ravished, do I?"

"Nah. I was careful."

Galinda buttoned her collar back up, tightening her tie to the base of her throat. "Excellent." She spotted Pfannee, who couldn't see her through the tinted windows, and unobserved looked tired and annoyed. She opened the door and went still in sheer surprise.

"Sorry I'm late," Pfannee said unsurely, belatedly noticing Milla.

"No, no. We were just early," Galinda said. Pfannee grimaced. "Coffee?"

"Oh. Sure."

Milla watched Galinda make the coffee, her face unreadable. Galinda gave her a questioning purse of her lips. Milla looked away, at Pfannee. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Alright," Pfannee sighed as she sat down. "The debating team has been given the topic for the next tournament, so I had to allocate team positions and research duties. We're debating Ozma's head team, who are total jerks."

"Why are they jerks?" Milla asked.

"They use tricks to throw you off instead of actual debating tactics. It's infuriating. It's their teacher - she's a _complete_ witch…"

"Interesting as debating team politics are," Galinda began with absolutely no attempt to be genuine, "We should kick off this meeting. Just the sports event with Ozma Towers to discuss?"

"We also have to start planning for the mid-year formal," Pfannee said, reaching for her bag.

"It's March," Milla said incredulously.

"Exactly," Pfannee replied anxiously, twisting to eye Milla. "Do you know how much work goes into those events? We're a finishing school. If our formals aren't perfect, what's the point?"

Milla rolled her eyes from Pfannee to Galinda. Galinda shrugged a shoulder. "It'll affect our grades if it's bad."

Milla picked her head up, eyes widening. "You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"Do you even know the prefects codex?" Pfannee whined. _Galinda_ didn't even know the prefects codex, whatever the hell that was, and she was Head Girl. "Our grades are scaled against our collective efforts as prefects to act as an incentive to do well and represent the school appropriately."

Milla sat in stunned silence for a moment. "... I fucking hate this school," she muttered.

Galinda placed a cup of coffee in front of Milla. "For the team, right?" Milla sneered at her. "After we've gone over the sports day, we'll start brainstorming themes for the formal," Galinda said, passing the other cup to Pfannee, who took it gratefully.

"How about… pool party themed?" Milla said, fluttering her eyes at Galinda. Galinda recalled their lazing by the pool on the-morning-after, and shared a coy smile with her.

Pfannee, oblivious to their exchange, cut her eyes at Milla. "A formal isn't a party. I assume you haven't been to one."

Milla laughed easily. "I go to Crage Hall, I've been to more fucking formals than I can stand. I was joking." Pfannee flustered, hiding her face in her coffee cup. "It's going to be some boring black tie affair with a mixtape of popular music that doesn't suit the venue at all. You'll say no alcohol, but there _will_ be alcohol. That's how it always is."

Galinda frowned, folding her arms. "... As long as we're directing it, I think we can do better than that. But we need Shenshen here, so we'll discuss that later. If someone can plan a good party, it's Shenshen."

"It's not a party," Pfannee insisted.

"Whatever," Galinda said dismissively, and Pfannee demurred. Milla shot Galinda a look, unreadable again. "We're going to make sure it's contemporary and fun. If we're going to do slow dancing and suits, we're going to make it interesting."

"Alright," said Pfannee grudgingly.

"You like parties."

"I do," she said. "I'm just worried about what Morrible will think."

"Fuck Morrible," Milla said flatly.

"She decides how our grades are scaled."

Milla groaned.

"Do you actually care about your grades?" Galinda asked, slightly bemused by Milla's dramatics.

"Me? Hell no. My parents? Very much so. It's the least I can give them with… everything else."

 _Being a polyamorous bisexual I guess_ , Galinda thought, sipping her coffee.

"Anyway," Pfannee said firmly, drawing her colour coded prefect binder from her bag and placing it on the low table in front of them. "The sports day at Ozma Towers is next week. Galinda, you'll be going over to the school on friday to talk to the staff about what you're expect to do, yes?"

"No," Galinda said, and Pfannee was already frowning. "They sent me an email. They're leaving it up to Avaric to make sure I know what I'm doing."

"I see… and do you know what you'll be doing?"

Galinda felt her anger rise at the doubt in Pfannee's voice, but didn't let it show. "I do. Avaric ran me over what Crage Hall Head Girls have done in the past, and the email was thorough. It's not all that complicated, really."

Pfannee nodded, scribbling in her binder. "And what is expected?"

"A pretty face," Galinda said simply. "And some pretty words. The usual."

Pfannee's eyes flickered over her. "I'm sure you'll do as well as ever," she said stiffly.

Milla glanced between them, seeming uncomfortable. Galinda exhaled through her nose, calming herself. "I assume you know what you're doing, then?"

"The three of us will be helping the staff. I volunteered you," Pfannee glanced at Milla, "to help set up the stage and equipment, since you're so… physical." Milla smirked, arching a brow at Pfannee, who blushed and went back to her binder. "You're alright with that?"

"Yeah… that's pretty perfect for me actually, thanks."

"Of course," Pfannee mumbled, seeming uncomfortable with Milla's friendliness. "Shenshen will be distributing drinks, snacks, towels, and other items at relevant intervals, while I'll help with keeping events on schedule and directing guests around the campus."

"Perfect," Galinda said, but it sounded like an insult somehow - she hadn't even intended it to. Pfannee seemed confused between being flattered and insecure.

"Yeah, thanks for handling that for me and Shenshen. We're pretty disorganised. But I think Shenshen will be totally fine with that role." Milla gave Pfannee a smile.

"Not at all," Pfannee replied quickly, but seemed relieved. "It's my job."

Shenshen arrived soon after, and they got the meeting properly underway. Shenshen was happy with her role in the sports day, and dove into the planning of the formal with gusto; by five thirty they had a list of possible venues and a potential outline of the event.

They would start the night as a classic masquerade - formal dress that allowed expression, a classic dance, with a chamber orchestra performing appropriate music. As the night went on - or, as Shenshen very frankly put it, "as people get more drunk," - a DJ would take over and they would shift into a much less formal party.

"I suggest we go with the Velvet Manor," Shenshen said.

"Isn't that associated with the Philosophy Club?"

"Yes. It's their most expensive space for hire, as far as I know. It has a hall, dining rooms, game rooms, balconies… and more private rooms. Big and small." Shenshen grinned deviously. "Want to start the first ever mid-year-formal orgy? Because I think it would be _great_."

Pfannee blanched. Galinda was intrigued enough to make up for her. "That _would_ be unforgettable…"

"It would need to be optional," Pfannee said anxiously.

"Or perhaps only open to V.I.P's. Morrible might just allow it if we monetize it."

"True."

"So the orgy could be the exclusive after party," Galinda mused. "I like it."

"If you're going to plan for an orgy, make sure it's safe," Milla said. "Big, dark parties make drugging and coercion with alcohol much easier. You need to make sure there are clear boundaries about consent through the whole night."

The three girls glanced at each other, slightly at a loss. "I'm not sure how to do that," Shenshen said bluntly. "Parties are parties, you know?"

"Um… no? There are lots of different parties with different rules. That's the exact shit we're learning at this school. Just talk to the Philosophy Club about it. I'm sure they've hosted a bunch of orgies and have the appropriate staff and knowledge to help you manage it."

"Noted," Shenshen said, clearly a bit reluctant. Galinda figured it was because it was more work. Shenshen hated complicating things. "Alright. As for drinks…"

Pfannee stood up, her bag already packed. "Our uber is here, Shen."

"Shit." Shenshen began stuffing her laptop in her bag.

"Good meeting guys," Galinda said, genuinely pleased at their productivity. "I'm looking forward to sorting out this formal. It might actually be cool."

"I'll make it cool," Shenshen said with a lopsided grin, throwing her bag on her back. "See ya!"

"Bye," Pfannee called, following Shenshen out. Galinda waved as they left.

Milla and Galinda looked at each other in the resulting stillness. "Well," Milla said, stretching her arms over her head leisurely. "Masquerade orgies. I'm excited. Will we have to pay the V.I.P fee?"

"No way."

"Nice."

Galinda sat beside Milla as if she were draping herself over the seat. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, looking at Milla with a suggestive smile. "It seems like we're alone again."

Milla laughed slightly. "You're like, way hornier a person than I thought you'd be."

Galinda blinked. "What did you think I'd be?"

"I thought you'd be repressed, in the way rich girls with powerful fathers are. Like Pfannee. But you're probably the horniest person I know."

"Really…?" Galinda asked.

"Yeah." Milla arched a brow at her. "You're like, _super_ thirsty. I've been having more sex with you than with my actual partner."

Galinda had never questioned if her own libido was odd in some way. "Super thirsty compared to what?"

"I don't know… the average? How much do you think about sex?"

Galinda considered that. "... How much do you?"

Milla shrugged. "When it comes up."

Galinda began to feel off. Self conscious. "I think about it pretty often. I rarely feel like… 'I need to have sex _now_ '. But when I can have sex, I want to. You know? Like, if it's an option, I'm probably happy to do that. And I have quite a few opportunities with you."

Milla hummed thoughtfully. Galinda stared out a window. "Is that bad?" She asked quietly.

"Of course not," Milla reassured her. "You're a horny person that likes sex. That's fine. As long as you're appropriate with it, of course."

"Guess I'm a slut," Galinda said to herself.

"Sure. Being a slut is great." Galinda looked at Milla, who smiled lopsidedly. "No reason why it isn't."

"I was taught otherwise."

"Fuck whoever taught you that. Many of my friends are absolute sluts and they're lovely."

Galinda smiled, her eyes dropping to her lap. "I started having sex pretty early. The second I was curious, to be honest." Galinda didn't think she'd ever talked about this.

"... When was that?"

"When I was fifteen."

Milla's eyebrows went up slightly. "Pretty early."

Galinda propped her cheek on her fist. "Really? When did you first have sex?"

"When I was twenty."

Galinda furrowed her brow. "But you're only twenty one…" Milla stared at her blankly. "... You've only been having sex for a year?"

"A bit more than that, but yes," Milla said unsurely.

"Wow." Galinda looked off in thought for a moment. "... Wouldn't have been able to tell."

"Thanks, I guess," Milla said. "I don't think being good at sex depends on how much you have. It's more important how much someone cares about sex, you know? I care about it."

"Same," Galinda said with a little smile. "Avaric is impressively bad at sex, considering how much of it he's had. He's good at being a bottom, at least."

"Well, he is a straight man… but he's a good servant, huh?"

Galinda tilted her head at that. "I wouldn't call him a servant…" She was really closer to the servant, though she had a pretense of control over him. "He's a true bottom, I'll put it that way." Galinda pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt with a little huff. "I'll need to call him to get a ride. And talk about the stupid sports day."

"You haven't talked to him?"

"I have," Galinda said mildly. "I know what I'm doing. I'm not exactly excited about it, but I know it."

"What'll you be doing?"

"Standing around for the Ozma guys to drool over. Really, you're going to be doing more than me. I just announce with Avaric, congratulate winners and look hot."

Milla grimaced sympathetically. "That… sucks."

"It's a tradition." They shared exasperated looks.

"I wasn't looking forward to it either, but I guess I can just haul stuff and ignore those assholes." Milla smiled to herself. "I think this is the first time I've been grateful for Pfannee."

"She is a very organised person. It's too bad she's… everything else she is."

Milla peered at Galinda warily. "Harsh."

"What?" Galinda gave Milla a look. "It's Pfannee. She's the most annoying person I know."

"... Maybe. It's just really obvious that she's like that because she's very insecure and probably has anxiety."

Galinda hadn't thought about Pfannee having anxiety - that did make sense, though - but she definitely knew Pfannee was insecure. "Yeah, I know."

There was a stretch of silence while Galinda texted Avaric. "What's the beef between you two?" Milla asked.

"Pfannee and I?"

"Yeah. You must have some bad history. I can't think of why else you'd be such an asshole to her."

Galinda looked sharply at Milla, surprised. "An asshole?"

"Yeah," Milla said. "You, like… pick on her. Rile her up. Make her uncomfortable. I mean, I get that she's annoying, but you clearly put a lot of thought into it."

Galinda flustered defensively. "Well… everyone in Crage Hall does that."

"I guess. But usually they at least have some pretence of a reason."

Galinda considered her response, then exhaled. She found herself inclined toward honesty with Milla. "Alright. My reason - our beef, as you put it - is that Pfannee is challenging me. That's a strong way to put it, but that's basically what it is. She's going after Avaric despite him not being interested in her, because I became Head Girl with no work, while she worked her ass off for it. And I do feel bad about that, but I basically had the position thrust upon me. I'm not sure what she expects me to do. But she's totally sending rival messages."

Milla frowned, confused. "Uh, okay. The head girl rival stuff is weird, but what's weirder is that you think Avaric isn't into Pfannee."

Galinda didn't process that for a second, and frowned at Milla belatedly. "... What?"

"He flirts with her, like, _hardcore_. Granted, I've never seen him do it in front of _you_. But at parties and shit - I guess when you're not there… he comes on way stronger than her. You really didn't know?"

Galinda stared at nothing, her brow furrowed deeply. "... No. No, I didn't."

"Well, he does. It's blatant. He even touches her and shit. I think it's skeevy as hell. But I've never seen her go along with it."

"She's definitely interested," Galinda said distractedly, still turning this new information over in her head.

"Well, maybe. I mean that she hasn't tried to get him to cheat."

Galinda put her face in her hands. She took a deep breath, peering at Milla. "I wonder why not, if he's so keen," she muttered.

"I think she respects you too much."

Galinda opened her mouth to disagree, to say that Pfannee disliked Galinda - but then, had Pfannee ever disrespected her? Pfannee made comments about Avaric, because Avaric was flirting with her, apparently. Pfannee was occasionally passive aggressive... but she was like that with everyone. It was her insecurity. Galinda knew that.

"I need to talk to Avaric," Galinda said quietly.

Milla observed her silently. "... You look intense."

Galinda felt intense. She felt angry at Milla for making her feel bad. She felt angry at herself for feeling angry at Milla just for being honest. She felt budding guilt, and she couldn't stand guilt. But mostly, she felt angry at Avaric. Galinda knew that Milla wouldn't lie about Avaric, because Milla didn't care about Avaric. Galinda knew, from experience, that Avaric would lie to her.

It was a downside to dating someone that was like a mirror reflection of yourself. All of her ugly parts were also in him. Both of them were chronically dishonest, just in different ways, having adapted to different realities. Avaric lied for his bravado. Made excuses to save face. Stretched facts to appear powerful. Avaric manufactured arrogance to replace confidence.

How did Galinda lie?

It was strange, perhaps, that Galinda knew she was lying and yet still lied. She had felt like a liar since she was sixteen. She had felt her own dishonesty like an identity. How did Galinda lie? Galinda made her life a performance. She performed herself so instinctively it may as well be truth. She knew, somehow, it wasn't.

She was not very consistent. She let herself slip often, because she wanted the truth to slip. She wanted people to see her. She wanted them to push past the performance, to care enough, even as she continued reinforcing that performance. She was a contradiction. She was the most important person in her school, and yet felt desperate for attention. She was being watched by every peer she had, and yet she felt unseen. She was so open, and yet closed - sometimes so honest, and yet.

Everyone performed in Crage Hall. That was the culture. The facade of a better self. Did the other girls feel so disconnected from themselves? Did they feel as exhausted by it? Did they feel cold inside, like she did sometimes?

Thinking about this while she waited for Avaric to arrive - Milla had left, wishing Galinda the best with her Pfannee drama - Galinda recalled a conversation she'd had with Shenshen. They'd been at a generic houseparty. Shenshen was a drunken philosopher, dolling out advice when she was in the pleasant window just past tipsy but not yet wasted.

Galinda, just as drunk herself, had been telling Shenshen about feeling like two people sometimes. Shenshen had put an arm around her and sighed. "It's all you, you know," Shenshen said lazily. "Humans… compartmentalise everything. Even themselves. You're trying to put yourself in boxes. Good, or bad, or your stupid self, or your tired self, or your slutty self. But you're just Galinda. It's all you…"

"... Did you just call me a slut?"

Shenshen had burst into laughter, proudly called herself a slut, and taken another shot. The night had quickly descended into a blur.

Maybe it was all her. Maybe the performance wasn't a performance. Maybe how she acted wasn't the problem, but it was instead how she thought about it that was the problem.

Who knew? Galinda didn't. She indulged in self analysis because she liked to think about herself. Herself was one of her favourite subjects. But she had never found answers, and she could only take so much self analysis before she felt as if none of herself existed at all. So she put it aside, and pulled out her phone, checking her instagram instead.

When Avaric pulled up and Galinda got into the car, it was immediately clear that Avaric was feeling irritable. It was in how he sat and held the wheel, and how he wrestled with the gear stick with more force than necessary. She didn't need to ask what was wrong - he quickly launched into an angry retelling of the day's events.

"What really pissed me off were these fucking kids that'd covered our bathroom ceiling with wet paper. They were first years, so they don't need to clean it. I swear, they have no fucking respect."

"Don't you have janitors for that?" Galinda answered distractedly. She was answered with silence. When she glanced at Avaric, she found him glaring back at her, even as he sped down the road.

"This was in the prefect bathroom. The one we have to clean and check ourselves, for that stupid student responsibility program? I told you about it weeks ago."

"Sorry," Galinda said exhaustively. "I've had a pretty full day myself-"

"You don't give a fuck about what I have to do as Head Boy, do you? You don't even listen to me." His jaw flexed as he focused on the road. "You don't even care."

Galinda wasn't sure how to respond to that, because she knew whatever she said would get a bad response. "... I'm sorry. I do care, I just… can't remember everything when I'm so busy."

"Right," he muttered. "So busy fucking around with Milla."

Galinda cut her eyes at him. "You agreed to me seeing her."

He let out a short, humourless laugh. "I was promised a threesome out of it. But let me guess, she's too shy?"

"She's just not interested, actually," Galinda said bluntly. She wasn't going to remain civil when he was acting like such an asshole.

"I don't think I'm okay with you two continuing to be friends with benefits or whatever the fuck you are." He glanced at her quickly. "It really gets to me. I thought it wouldn't, but it does. Especially since Milla is so like a guy."

"Milla isn't a guy at all-"

"She feels like a guy."

"She's not," Galinda said firmly. The thought of not getting to have sex with Milla anymore legitimately upset her. She had never had such consistently good sex, and it had made her realise how essential it was to her.

In retrospect, sex had always affected her romantic relationships profoundly. Galinda certainly wouldn't be as patient with Avaric if they didn't have such an interesting sex life. But it wasn't always the good kind of interesting. Galinda mostly enjoyed when he was submissive, but as his other self - his alpha self - Galinda found herself hating him. Perhaps the submissive Avaric was only more enjoyable because it wasn't that other side of him. It was confusing more than anything. Everything with Avaric was confusing.

"I'm not going to stop seeing Milla," Galinda said, quiet but firm. That was something she could be certain of.

Avaric pulled the car off the side of the road suddenly. He locked the doors. Galinda was immediately on edge, and she leaned against the door away from him. He twisted in his seat, staring at her hard. "You have to stop seeing her."

"No," Galinda murmured. He slammed the steering wheel with his hand, making her flinch. "God, Avaric, calm down!"

"I'm angry! I can't calm down! You're cheating on me, you're fucking cheating!"

"You agreed on it!"

"And I don't agree with it anymore! I don't want you seeing anyone else. So if you do see someone else you're fucking cheating, get it?" He had began leaning toward her at some point - she felt like he was right up in her space, crowding her. She felt her breath coming harder. "Do you get it? Is that fucking clear enough for you? Or should I draw you a diagram?"

"Shut up, shut up!" she yelled, her eyes tearing up for no good reason. "You're shouting at me for not even cheating, when _you've_ been lying about not flirting with Pfannee for ages!"

He faltered and scowled. "What bullshit are you talking about?"

"People told me, Avaric. They told me they'd seen you flirting with Pfannee at parties, which you said you didn't do. You said you weren't even interested in Pfannee, and she was all over _you_ , when you are all over _her!"_ He flustered, angry and defensive but obviously caught out. So Milla wasn't lying. Galinda sighed massively. "I don't care. I don't even care, Avaric. Flirt with Pfannee. Sleep with her, why not. I'm not going to stop seeing Milla. That's it, Avaric."

"... Are you in love with her?" Avaric asked. There was something uncomfortable about him asking that, and she saw that he looked uncomfortable himself. Love had never come up between them.

"No. I'm not romantically interested in Milla." Avaric nodded, looking away from her. She saw him formulating his next question. If he asked her how she felt about him, she wasn't sure how she could possibly respond. If he said he was in love with her…

Galinda knew if she said she was in love with him she would be falling into some kind of trap.

"I'm serious," she said, attempting to get control of the conversation. "I won't stop seeing Milla. It's that or nothing." She pressed her hand against her forehead, and it was trembling.

Avaric turned his head to stare at her as if in disbelief. "Are you saying…"

She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe she was putting this on the table. Their ruin. But what other choice did she have, when the thought of ending it brought her so much comfort? "Either we break up, or we find an alternative," Galinda said stiffly.

"An alternative," he repeated.

She steeled herself, and spoke, because she had to speak. She had to try. "... Like an open relationship."

He studied her silently. "... On both sides?"

"Yes."

He sat back and rubbed at his chin. He was suddenly much calmer for someone apparently overcome with anger only a minute ago. But that happened often, fast flashes of temper or irritation or resentment. Galinda herself felt like a rubber band that'd been held taught finally relaxing, but she was left ruffled and unsure of herself. She peered at him from behind her hand as he contemplated whatever he was contemplating.

"Fine," he said eventually. "You get to fuck Milla, I get to sleep with who I want."

Galinda was uncomfortable with the double standard he'd presented, but too exhausted to argue. She had basically gotten what she wanted. Sort of. "Fine."

"Fine," he responded, starting up the car again. "I'll fuck other girls. I'll fuck every other girl in Crage Hall. If you're okay with that."

"Go for it," Galinda said flatly.

They fell into a silence that felt thick as a blanket. Galinda stared out the window, wondering why she was where she was.

* * *

 Galinda arrived at Tibbett's property slightly later than arranged. She had to come right from school - which translated as her coming from a photography club meeting - and was flustered and apologetic when she slipped through the corrugated iron doors, and saw Elphaba standing alone on the puzzle piece mats in the middle of the floor. They were facing away from her, their arms crossed as they stared at their phone.

They were so tall. Galinda had noticed it every time she'd seen them, but it still surprised her. Being as close to them as she had been last session, she realised they weren't just tall - they were _big_. It was their hands that had made her realise it. It was their back, so much broader than hers, that made her notice it again now. Their hair was loose and trailing between their shoulder blades. Galinda had an impulse to touch Elphaba's hair each time she saw it. She imagined it was very thick from the texture of it, but very sleek. Galinda assume they dyed it that deep, reddish wine colour, but their roots had not changed since the party when she'd met them. Perhaps it was natural. Why couldn't it be, on a person with green skin?

They lifted their arm to run their hand across their hair, and she noticed their underarm hair was that same wine red and unshaven. Galinda was simultaneously surprised and not surprised. She assumed most trans people with Elphaba's body would shave, but it seemed very Fae to resist such a convention. They never had come across as particularly feminine. Though they weren't particularly masculine, either. They were something else.

She had never fully considered it, but Elphaba felt very much like something _between_. Not just in gender, but in essence, in physicality, in spirit. They were between man and woman, between male and female, between reality and mythos. Green skinned, sharp-toothed, coarse-haired, strong, towering, and allergic to water. They were almost something monstrous from such a description.

But it was not off putting. If anything, Galinda found it intriguing. It was scientific fact that there were once different creatures in Oz. Elves and such. The Animals were the last remaining of the non-human peoples of Oz, but Elphaba did not seem like any Animal to Galinda. They seemed Other from anyone Galinda had known.

Not that she would ever ask them about it. For all of Elphaba's mystery and intrigue, they were equally intimidating.

"Hey."

Elphaba jumped at her greeting, and spun around to look at her, a pair of earphones whipping out of their ears. They let out a breath. "God."

She smiled lopsidedly. "Sorry."

"It's fine," they said, antsy because they were embarrassed, Galinda suspected.

"Where's Crope and Tibbett?"

"Not coming. They had plans and figured we could practice tying without them." Galinda nodded, kneeling by her gym bag to get her ropes out. "... Is that okay?"

Galinda looked up at them. "Oh, yeah, it's fine."

"Alright." She felt them watching her while she got the rope and shears in order. "... Are you okay?"

Galinda sat back on her heels, frowning up at Elphaba quizzically. "I'm fine."

"You seem less..." They gestured. "Animated."

Galinda considered brushing it off. She hadn't told anyone about what'd happened in the car with Avaric. She sighed shortly, and looked back up at Elphaba with a tight smile. "Relationship drama. I had a fight with Avaric."

"Ah. What happened?"

"It's not really important," Galinda muttered, looking at the bundle of rope in her hands. "You're not obligated to listen to me or anything, you know."

"I'm curious what shade of asshole he was this time," Elphaba said with a little smile.

Galinda returned it. She wasn't up to defend Avaric right now. "His usual shade of asshole. He was having a bad day and took it out on me. But it turned into him being mad about Milla and I - I told you we were messing around, right?"

"Yes."

"Right. And he was fine with it, except he suddenly wasn't. Then he compared Milla to a man, accused me of cheating, then I called him out on flirting with other people, and we agreed on an open relationship."

Elphaba raised their eyebrows. "That is dramatic."

"That's my life," Galinda wryly.

"An open relationship," Elphaba repeated. "Surprising. He doesn't seem like the type to allow that."

"I was surprised myself," Galinda muttered. "Of course, it's not exactly fair. From his wording, I believe the arrangement is that he gets to fuck whoever he wants, while I get to fuck Milla specifically."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yeah." Galinda began tugging the bundle of rope free, a touch more aggressively than necessary. "I don't like that it's imbalanced, but it's essentially what I wanted. It's fine."

"You don't mind him sleeping with other people?"

"No." She realised they would need to renegotiate their rules about contraception. She pushed that thought aside for the moment, already dreading how difficult Avaric would make such a conversation.

"...You're creating a precedent either way. Because of the double standard. It tells him he can get away with disrespecting you. He'll push a little more each time," Elphaba said forebodingly, like telling a prophecy. "If he is what he sounds like."

"And what is it he sounds like?" Galinda asked, doubling up the rope. "Because what he is, really, is simply a selfish young man. He's been spoiled his whole life. I'm aware of it, and I'm used to dealing with it."

Elphaba grimaced. "Perhaps-"

"Furthermore, I think it's a bit presumptuous for you to jump to conclusions about the dynamic between Avaric and I. He's not some dominant man that controls me."

"He doesn't control you?" Elphaba asked doubtfully.

"He tries to sometimes. This is the first time really. He's just being possessive I think. But he's weak, really." Galinda wanted to explain how she saw Avaric. How lost Avaric was. How There was a side of him that was better. That was good. He put on make up and made himself vulnerable to her. He shopped with her and ate with her and cared, in his own way.

Galinda didn't love him, but she had a heart. She saw he was drowning. She was trying to keep his head over the water. She didn't want the good in him to die. How would he survive, with no one to be vulnerable and honest with?

"He's not just weak," Galinda said quietly, looking up at Elphaba. "He's vulnerable. Without me… I don't know what would happen. He'd be worse."

Some uncertainty flickered over Elphaba's face before they became impassive once again. "I see."

Galinda cleared her throat, and got back on her feet. "Alright. Let's actually get tying, shall we?"

Elphaba lifted ther chin. "Yes."

"Star harness, or leg ties?"

Elphaba considered their options. "Star harness."

"Alright. We can figure out how the elbow ties will work that way." She smiled a bit apologetically up at Elphaba. "Once again, I'll need to test your nerves."

"... Alright. Where?"

"Your armpit. Very important since your shoulders have nerve damage already."

"Fair," Elphaba said, still seeming somewhat reluctant.

"Arms up." Elphaba stared at her blankly a moment. "... What?"

"I don't know. You sound like you're going a pull a shirt on me."

Galinda rolled her eyes with a smile. "Just put your arms up." They did. She reached to touched them, and stopped just short. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable, yes?"

They glanced at her and nodded. She focused on their shoulders. She observed the definition of their peck, the muscle that stretched from chest to shoulder, above the hollow tucked beneath their arms. Galinda glanced up to monitor their expression, and pressed her fingers against the nerve beneath Elphaba's arms.

 


	10. Futile Devices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song is Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2dNTjE6ItI (linking the live version bc surfboard is beautiful)

Elphaba's eyes slipped closed as they chewed a mouthful of homemade vegan lasagna, a signature creation of Tibbett's. They sighed, and met Crope's amused stare. "How is it _so_ good?"

"Magic worker," Crope mumbled around her own mouthful, equally lost in ecstasy. "How am I so lucky? I'm dating the goddess that made this? She touches me with her hands? I'm blessed."

"Extremely blessed."

Crope's eyes twinkled at Elphaba. "I wonder what I bring to the relationship. Nothing as good as this."

Elphaba squinted at her. "What _do_ you do, other than guitar?"

"... Video games…" Crope thought hard. "I give good head."

"That is... something."

"I'm always happy to do the dishes?"

"Good enough."

"Great!" Crope said with a smile. "Passed. Bare minimum passed. Good to know."

Elphaba laughed along silently. "You're proficient at writing music," they proposed.

"I am. I must write her a song."

"Another one?"

"Are there ever too many songs about Tibbett? She deserves them. Taste that fucking lasagna." Elphaba took another mouthful, and sighed again. "Exactly."

They chatted and laughed idly as they ate about half the dish Crope had brought with her - it was _too good_ \- and then moved on to tea. Crope leaned back on the counter as Elphaba put the kettle on and searched their cupboards for something approximating biscuits. "Have you talked to Sarima recently?" she asked. "She asked about you the other day."

"I haven't," Elphaba replied reluctantly.

"... Not feeling it?"

Elphaba glanced at Crope quickly. "Not sure." They couldn't use the excuse that they'd been busy. Busy doing what - lying naked in their room reading? "Haven't had the spoons for that, I guess."

"It's alright if you just don't want to hang out with her." Elphaba gave up on the biscuits, and faced Crope properly, crossing their arms. "You don't even really need to talk to her. Maybe give her a short message. To reassure her. She's too smitten to calm down about you."

Elphaba grimaced, glancing away. "Is she?"

"Elphie," Crope said with a look. "I know you've made out. She's told me."

"Kissing doesn't equate feelings. Very presumptuous of you."

"Sarima has feelings for you," Crope said firmly. "Like, real bad."

Elphaba attempted to contain their reaction. Crope observed curiously, and then with concern.

"... Sorry, I assumed you were at least a bit into her. Are you attracted to her?"

"I suppose," Elphaba muttered. Their body certainly was.

"Are you interested in more?"

Elphaba let out a short, uncomfortable breath. "I don't know." They rubbed the back of their head. "Yes. Sure. I could do that, I guess."

"... Do you _want_ to?"

"I don't know." They turned half away from her.

"It sounds like you don't." Elphaba frowned, looking at anything but Crope. "It's alright if you don't, you know."

"Obviously it's alright," they said quietly.

"I mean… you're not missing an opportunity." Elphaba looked at Crope, who was smiling at them gently. "I know it can feel like… it's rare, so you have to go with it. Make the most of it. If you're not interested, you don't have to be."

Elphaba glanced away and back to Crope, their hands resting on the counter either side of them. "Mm."

"Does it feel like that for you?"

"I guess." Elphaba looked at her with a sardonic smile. "I like the sentiment, but… it _is_ rare for me. It _is_ an opportunity. I can't really deny that."

"What, exactly. Someone being interested in you?" Elphaba struggled with their response. "Someone being attracted to you?"

"I guess, yes."

"Less rare than you think, Elphie." Crope gestured to herself. "Living proof."

"Of what?"

"Of being attracted to you. Tibbett is too."

Elphaba flustered. "Tibbett? You're having a go at me."

"Of course I'm not. I never joke about her and I being attracted to people." Crope glanced off briefly, her brow furrowing. "I think Tibbett - and myself - would have acted on it earlier, if we didn't know how uncomfortable that would make you. The only reason this seems new to you is because… I think everyone holds back around you."

Elphaba drew their arms around themself. "I see."

"Because you don't like to talk about those things - we know they make you uncomfortable. It's fine. Everyone has stuff that we avoid talking about, you know? Not just you. But Sarima doesn't know better. And she's tenacious. About as subtle as a freight train, that one. That's why you actually see it."

Elphaba eyed Crope warily. "... I'm not sure what you mean."

"People flirt with you _all the time_ , Elphie. Literally constantly. And you never notice, but most people can't tell you haven't noticed, because you're also sort of flirting with everyone all the time without knowing..."

Elphaba outright scowled. "I do not."

"You _do_."

"How do I flirt?"

Crope counted it off on her fingers. "By how you dress - those tight jeans? That's a form of flirting. By how casually and how often you talk about sex - bringing up sex openly and playfully is _basically_ flirting... and by teasing people the way you do. Like it's not really insulting, it's just kinda fun, that's a type of flirting."

Elphaba knew they did all of the things Crope was saying, but they found it difficult to believe that really constituted as flirting. "That is not flirting. Also you're making me sound much more fun than we both know I actually am."

"Excuse me? You're _very_ fun conversation when you're not frozen with anxiety."

Elphaba scrunched up their face a bit. "I disagree," they said as if making a note of it, not actually intending to elaborate or invite discussion. "But fine, I will try to send some kind of message to Sarima."

Crope smiled exasperatedly. "Good. She's a lovely girl, really. Bit forward."

"Pretty damn forward."

They trailed off into silence as Elphaba made their teas. They handed Crope their mug, and she murmured her thanks and took a sip. They glanced around the room.

Elphaba felt a strange atmosphere of expectation develop between them. There was an impending conversation that Elphaba had felt building between them, one that Elphaba had been avoiding. They were on the precipice of that conversation, and either of them could jump in or step back from it. Elphaba froze, not wanting to do either. Crope was just as still, having sensed this atmosphere herself.

She cleared her throat. "Is there anyone else you're attracted to?" she asked. "Well, other than Galinda."

They were over the precipice, then. Elphaba grimaced at Crope. "When did I say I was attracted to her?"

"After the first tying session…? I said you were attracted to her and you didn't deny it. That's basically an admission."

Elphaba crossed their arms over their stomach, glancing away from her. "Yes, I'm attracted to her," they answered. It was immediately a relief to have said it to someone. "It's driving me fucking crazy. Crazier."

Crope nibbled at her lip. "How so?"

"You know." They gestured. "The frustration. It really wasn't so bad before. Not this bad. Not this… distracting."

"Hm."

"In the last session, when you weren't there…" Elphaba became hot with embarrassment just at the memory. They pinched the bridge of their nose. "I was worried I'd be late because I got absorbed in a book, and I forgot to tuck. And she had to test my nerves for one of the ties."

Crope blinked. "And you…"

"I did. It was really obvious. And she definitely saw it."

Crope was studying Elphaba closely, or at least it felt like it. "Do you have feelings for her?" she asked eventually.

"No." Elphaba felt a lurch within them, a physical pull within their guts. "No," they reinforced firmly.

Crope searched them. "I know it isn't easy for you to talk about these things. That's probably an understatement. But the worst thing you can do is not talk about it, you know? You can ask for help if you're in distress."

"It's not that serious."

"It seems serious."

"It's not."

"It is. How we feel about people is very serious." Crope came forward to stand before Elphaba, resting her hands on their forearms, still crossed over their stomach. Her hands were very warm from the mug of tea she'd put down. "Our connections matter to us. They always have mattered. It's survival, to want to be liked. To be loved."

Elphaba peered at Crope warily. Her hands squeezed Elphaba's arms. "I know you want to be loved," she said gently, almost reproachfully. "I do too. Nothing wrong with that."

Elphaba felt the ache of approaching tears, and winced, turning their face away from Crope. "Love is a very abstract concept to me. The word barely has meaning."

"Because it's overused?"

"Because it's misused. In so many ways. I was raised to think of love as an expression of God. You have no idea how unrelatable that word is to me."

"Can you define it?" Elphaba looked at Crope quizzically. "For yourself. Your own definition of love."

"No. You can't personally define something you've never experienced."

Crope looked briefly lost. "Never experienced?" she repeated. "Not at all?"

"No. I've never looked at someone and thought I loved them."

"...What about your sister? You adore your sister."

"I suppose."

"You feel affection toward her. You seem dedicated to her protection and care…"

"Of course."

"That's love."

Elphaba grimaced. "She's my sister. Of course I want to protect her."

"It's not automatic that other people must protect their siblings because they really care about them. That comes from love. That _is_ love."

Elphaba raised their shoulders in a shrug, silent. Crope looked at a loss. "So you don't love Nessa?"

"I care a great deal for Nessa," Elphaba said.

"And Boq and Fiyero?"

"... I care a great deal for them, too."

Crope leaned back against the counter, her arms folded behind her back. She glanced off at nothing. "Well, I love you, Elphie. You're one of my best friends."

"We're not that close." Elphaba immediately felt cruel. They glanced up at Crope, and saw she looked very embarrassed, her face set and her eyes low and wet. Elphaba opened their mouth to say something, to take it back or to apologise, but were frozen still. They stared down at the linoleum tiles of the kitchen.

"Fair enough." Elphaba looked up. Crope forced a smile at them. "You're not obliged to feel anything toward me. It's fine. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I didn't want to guilt you."

"Crope..."

"It was the wrong thing to say. It's okay, really." Crope patted their hand, and looked more collected. "I should go," she said, already gathering her handbag and phone. "Get out of your hair."

"Okay," Elphaba said unsurely.

Crope hugged them hard at the door, wished them a good day against their shoulder, and turned and left quickly. Elphaba closed the door and leaned back against it. They slid to the ground.

They were an asshole.

* * *

For the first time since Shame Machine's inception, there was a problem within the band. There had been bumps, disagreements and miscommunications, but they had been quickly resolved. This wasn't as simple as that. This was an atmosphere of unease and confusion, and it was entirely from Elphaba and Crope.

They had been tip toeing around each other. Crope was certainly hurt, and also seemed distinctly less comfortable around Elphaba. Elphaba felt too guilty to know how to approach her. They had very rarely been in such a situation, except with people like Nessa and Fiyero, who they had known forever and could rely on to simply brush it off. Crope was just that touch further from Elphaba, and so had less certainty.

Elphaba's solution was their usual solution: avoid it. And so they did. They avoided Crope whenever they could, which was very little, because everything Elphaba did other than sitting alone in their room involved Crope.

In the wake of their first awkward band practice, within which Boq and Fiyero immediately noticed something was off, the boys had pressured Elphaba to have lunch with them at the Munchkin place by Fiyero's house. It was the best priced restaurant they'd found for the quality of the food. Elphaba had tried most of the vegetarian options, but their japchae or their tofu bibimbap was probably Elphaba's favourite take out food in Shiz.

So Elphaba was sat between Fiyero and Boq on the brick wall of a park with a hot bowl of home wedged between their thighs, stirring its contents with a spoon. "So," Fiyero began, peering at them from their right. "What the fuck is going on with Crope?"

Elphaba sighed shortly. "It's… nothing."

"You suck at lying."

Elphaba grimaced. "We were having a discussion about our friendship, and it became known that she feels we are closer than I do. This was obviously hurtful to her feelings." Elphaba cleared their throat. "I was also… more abrasive than I needed to be."

"Business as usual then," Boq said.

"Will you _never_ stop breaking people's hearts, Elphaba?" Fiyero asked with a mocking smile.

"Shut up."

"For the sake of the band at least, please just apologise and start talking again. It was awful in there." Boq leaned forward to look at Fiyero. "When Crope played the complete wrong chord and Fae said _nothing_?"

"So weird."

"Very weird. Uncanny, really."

"Good lord," Elphaba muttered.

"You know we're right."

"I know, I know. I don't know what to do really. I'm a mean person."

"You're a defensive person," Fiyero corrected with a little smile. "Crope hasn't learnt that eighty percent of how you act is you bluffing to hide your anxiety."

"I'd say it's closer to forty percent," Elphaba countered.

"No, it's a solid sixty-five," Boq said. "All bark."

"All bark, also all bite," Fiyero agreed.

"Right. Both. Full bark, full bite."

"Glad you two are having fun breaking down the statistics of my behaviour." Elphaba rubbed at the shaven back of their head. "Mean or defensive, either way I'm… bad at that. Talking it out, or whatever. I would rather just wait for it to pass."

"God, that's _such_ a bad strategy."

Elphaba rested their head in their hand, grunting.

"Look Elphie," Boq said more seriously, which made Elphaba peer at him somewhat gingerly. "If you don't patch this up, it's going to create a schism between you and Crope. And… I really don't think you want that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but from everything I've seen and heard from you, you and Crope are pretty close."

"... I guess," Elphaba said. They found it hard to tell how much they enjoyed any of their friendships.

"Honestly, I thought Crope was sort of your best friend?" Fiyero said. Elphaba blinked at him with surprise. "... Was I wrong?"

"You're my best friends," Elphaba said. "If I have 'best friends'. That's a rather juvenile term, but I'm the closest to you two. I've known you longer, I know you better..."

"Yeah, but we barely hang out," Boq said. "Obviously we're always gonna be close, but you and Crope have like… that thing." Boq smiled. "That thing where you're kind of learning about each other and you want to spend time together. Like it's not as established but its a lot stronger somehow. That's the impression I got watching you, anyway."

"Definitely," Fiyero agreed.

Elphaba stared at the ground, mystified. They had never really considered who their closest friends were. They just assumed Boq and Fiyero were since they were comfortable. But the two of them were right, to a point. Elphaba shared a bond with Crope that was unique to anyone else they knew. There were their friends, their childhood friends, their acquaintances… and there was Crope.

"Perhaps..." Elphaba intoned.

"Either way, you should _talk to her_. Okay?" Boq looked at Elphaba sternly.

Elphaba smirked. "Alright, mum."

"Good." Boq bumped his elbow against Elphaba's side. Fiyero slung his huge arm over their shoulders. They finished their bibimbap, and thought about Crope.

* * *

Their next tying session was a few days later. Elphaba had been hoping Crope and Tibbett would simply not come like before. Alas, Galinda had asked them give second opinions on certain tying choices she had in mind - something about elbows or forearms - and they had agreed to come prior to their little drama.

Elphaba arrived later than anyone. They had dragged their feet getting ready and missed their bus. When they arrived it was one o'clock on a hot, dry day, and the iron shed was boiling. Crope, Tibbett and Galinda were sat outside in the grass, under the shade of a tree. They perked up and greeted Elphaba as they approached.

"I apologise for being late," they said shortly.

"No problem," Galinda said brightly. "Perfect timing, actually, we were thinking of what to do for lunch. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"The local town is a couple of k's away," Tibbett said. "We have bikes?"

"I'm so not cycling in this heat," Crope said, squinting up at the sky. "... Any places that do delivery?"

"Uber eats?"

"I doubt mum and dad would mind if we just had a bite here. Should have something in there, they come almost every weekend."

"If it'd be alright…"

Tibbett went off to check the house. Elphaba joined Crope and Galinda in the shade. The vague awkwardness between them and Crope reared it's head, but Galinda - blessedly oblivious to it, or at least its origin - made up for it. "How's your week been, Fae?" she asked.

"Pretty dull. All of our recent gigs have been quite tame." Elphaba glanced at Crope, who glanced back, and cleared her throat.

"Yeah. We don't really have the time to arrange proper performances right now…"

"Mm."

"My week has been chaos," Galinda said, a bit presumptuous as to their interest. "Preparing for this damn sports event at Ozma Towers."

"Ozma Towers is Crage Hall's brother school, right?" Crope asked.

"Yes. Avaric is Head Boy there. I'll be helping him host, while the other prefects get to actually do something."

Elphaba arched a brow. "Doesn't sound like you're looking forward to it."

"No," Galinda huffed out. "Ozma Towers guys are dicks, and my whole job is to let them perv on me."

"That… sucks," Crope said with confused expression. "Why is that even expected?"

"I do not know. Its tradition, apparently."

"Awful."

"How are things going with the Head Boy?" Elphaba asked, trying not to make it too blatant that they were probing for information. Crope glanced at them curiously, and it seemed they had already been blatant. At least to someone that knew them.

"Better. Avaric and I had an argument the other day," Galinda explained to Crope quickly, "and I think he's been trying to make it up to me this week. He's being really sweet. He flips like that."

"Flips?"

"Yeah. Like, he's all charming and lovely, then he's impatient or annoyed or angry suddenly. Sometimes it's at the smallest things."

Crope nodded slowly. "He sounds like a handful."

"He can be. I wish I knew what did it so I could avoid it." She leaned toward them slightly. "I've always thought it was because - well, keep to this to yourself, will you?"

"Of course."

"Well, he's more feminine than he wants people to know. And more submissive -" she stressed this world slightly - "as a person. But he's meant to be the Head Boy of Ozma Towers. He suppresses a lot of himself, with everyone but me. And I think it frustrates him or something, so he gets angry, especially when he feels weak or insecure. I think that's what sets him off. When he's not ready to embrace his femininity."

Crope hummed unsurely. "Okay. I don't think it's healthy for him to be relying on you to express himself. He doesn't have anyone else…?"

"No one."

"Hm."

"It's becoming more stressful," Galinda continued, rubbing at her eyes. "I worry about him. I feel like I'm always worrying about him. Because he's clearly so conflicted, and I know I need to help him."

"It doesn't really work like that. You can be present of course, be supportive, but that stuff is a personal journey, you know? It's not up to you to change him."

"And you're not responsible if he doesn't change," Elphaba added. Galinda looked up to meet their gaze, her expression thoughtful.

"... Maybe you're right." She took a breath, and exhaled slowly. "I don't know. I've been okay with it, but he's getting angrier, or more impatient or something. He just gets so…"

"Demanding?" Elphaba asked. They saw Crope look at them in their periphery, but watched Galinda.

Her eyes fell from Elphaba's. "Yes."

Elphaba and Crope exchanged looks. They were thinking the same thing. Elphaba sure would have liked to talk to her about it.

"Anyway…" Galinda pushed herself up to her feet, brushing the grass from the back of her dress. "I going to prep the rope. We can get right to tying once we've had lunch." She paused before leaving, and gave both of them a little smile. "Thanks for listening to me."

"No problem Galinda," Crope said with a smile. "You can talk to us any time about Avaric, okay?"

"Yeah," Elphaba said. "Good luck with him."

"Thank you." She went off to the shed.

Elphaba and Crope were left in each others company. The silence became immediately awkward to Elphaba. They cleared their throat, and picked up a little stick to dig into the black dirt around their feet.

"How are you doing?" Elphaba looked up at Crope, confused and surprised. "With Galinda," Crope clarified. "You know."

"Oh." Elphaba flustered and looked away again. "Fine. It's only a problem when she has to test my nerves. It's fine."

"That's good." There was a stretch of silence. "You can give me a signal or something if you want. Like a wink or a look or a hand gesture. And I'll distract Galinda so she has to stop what she's doing. Give you a break."

Elphaba stared at Crope wordlessly for a drawn moment. "... Oh. Maybe. I'll keep that in mind." Crope nodded, looking satisfied. Elphaba felt their chest constrict slightly. "... Thanks, Crope."

"No problem."

Tibbett reappeared a short while later. Crope stood up as she approached. "Anything?"

"Yeah, totally. I think they were here just a few days ago, so the fridge and pantry are pretty well stocked."

"Sick. Sandwiches maybe?"

"I think we have the stuff for nachos," Tibbett proposed. Crope brightened.

"Nice! Avocados?"

"Yep."

"I'm so down to make nachos."

"I was gonna get some lemons from the tree behind the shed. I'll come help you make it?"

"Sure." Crope pecked Tibbett's cheek and went off to Tibbett's parent's household.

Elphaba watched as she left, and then met Tibbett's eye. "Lovely, isn't she?" they said, because she was and they were acutely aware of it at the moment.

Tibbett glanced up at them. She pressed her mouth into a tense line, and turned away from Elphaba to go to the lemon tree. "She is."

Elphaba realised, belated from sheer surprise, that Tibbett was being cold to them. They had never seen Tibbett be cold to anyone, and the effect of it - coming from _Tibbett_ of all people - was like rocks dropping in their stomach.

They cooked - barley - and ate their nachos, and launched into the tying already prepared, as Galinda had planned. Since becoming more used to Galinda doing the same ties that required the same touches, Elphaba had found the process strangely relaxing. They stood. They raised or lowered their arms when asked. They let Galinda move them into position for the prayer tie, or the elbow ties Galinda was introducing this session. There was a rhythm and a monotony to Galinda looping and winding the ropes about Elphaba's torso that let their mind drift.

This unusual tension now between Elphaba, Crope _and_ Tibbett was on the forefront of their mind. They watched Crope and Tibbett idly, who sat off to the side of the structure, half watching Galinda work as they talked. Elphaba wondered what they were talking about. More accurately, they worried they were talking about Elphaba. They felt self centered thinking it, but it was not an unreasonable worry. Clearly Tibbett was upset with them, and that meant Tibbett knew what had happened. There was a dialogue preestablished. They probably were talking about Elphaba.

"Elbow ties, or prayer tie first?"

Elphaba blinked back to focus on Galinda's expectant face. "Elbows." She went back to her work.

Elphaba couldn't quite imagine Crope talking badly of them. Mostly because Crope had never talked badly of anyone she didn't hate, and Crope rarely hated anyone. It was pure insecurity on Elphaba's part. Even if Crope and Elphaba weren't friends she would still be so kind and respectful it would always surprise Elphaba. That's just who she was. And it made Elphaba feel all the worse for their own callous behaviour.

"Feel alright?" Galinda asked. She had tied one elbow, and held the other in her hands, her fingers pressing against the major nerve just above the crook of their elbow itself.

"Yes."

Even that day, not an hour before, Crope had been so thoughtful of Elphaba's comfort as to offer them her assistance with the tying sessions. Even after Elphaba had clearly hurt her feelings.

Why _had_ Elphaba hurt her feelings? Why had they said that? Crope wasn't just a friend, but a close friend. Boq and Fiyero may have even been right for all Elphaba knew - maybe Crope was their best friend. She certainly seemed to care enough for the title. She brought them food and asked them how they were. She made them laugh and tell their secrets. She was important to Elphaba's life.

Elphaba - they were suddenly sure of this - was callous because they were trying to push Crope away. Somehow they couldn't abide such a kind person being so persistently invested in their friendship. They preferred Fiyero and Boq. They all understood each other so well they never had to bond. They were hands off, low maintenance. They made it easy for Elphaba to isolate themself.

"All good?"

They flexed their arms against the elbow ties. "Yep."

Crope wouldn't let them isolate. Not in their usual, admittedly self-destructive way. Crope actively pursued them even as they isolated, and seemed to know what they really needed. Elphaba could not rationalise such an effort on their behalf.

Like Sarima.

Elphaba had almost killed that connection. Like a houseplant they hadn't watered in weeks. They might just be able to get away with it, nurse their friendship back to health, but they weren't sure they cared that much. They didn't want the same with Crope. They didn't want it to get to that point.

Elphaba might drive Crope away. They would, inevitably. The thought upset Elphaba. They hadn't expected that.

Crope met their eye suddenly. She gazed back at them and seemed very knowing. Like she'd been thinking the same turning thoughts about Elphaba. Elphaba smiled at her hesitantly. She returned it.

"Alright?"

Elphaba looked at Galinda again. She had began the prayer tie - she had the larks head around their wrists and several of the loops between Elphaba's fingers already. They opened their mouth to say they were fine, but then stopped, as they watched their fingers wiggle and did not feel it.

"Oh. I can't feel my hands."

Galinda immediately snatched up the safety shears and cut the ties around their elbows. She tugged the larks head loose from around their wrists. Elphaba felt their blood begin to return to their forearms and hands. "I've got a major case of pins and needles coming on," they said with a little grimace.

"Elphaba -" Galinda turned half away from them, and tossed the rope to the ground. She pressed her hands to her eyes. She looked up at them, clearly upset. "God. Please, _pay attention_ to what you're feeling. Talk to me. I really don't want to damage your nerves any further, okay?"

"... Of course," Elphaba said, sorry for rattling her.

"If you're feeling your blood rushing then the rope must have been too tight around your elbows. That's my mistake." She sighed, in relief or exasperation.

Crope and Tibbett had risen to attention. "Everything alright?"

"Just a bit of miscommunication," Galinda said, glancing up at Elphaba with a wry little smile. "I'll be more careful in the future. Please be more attentive."

"I understand."

"Alright. How about we take a break while your hands recover?" Elphaba nodded, and Crope decided mojitos were in order.

The rest of the session went by without any mistakes. They'd more or less gotten used to the ties that would be above their waist. They had one more variation on their arms being bound together, and then they would be moving to their legs. They were also going to try a hogtie at some point, if Elphaba was up to it. Elphaba was nervous at the idea of both, but hoped they became as monotonous and ineffectual as the other ties.

They had at least five more sessions till they would be ready to start preparing the performance itself, Galinda estimated. Possibly more. Five more sessions, and then Elphaba supposed they would not see each other.

By the time they finished it was almost dinner, and they decided to have it together. This time Galinda helped Tibbett cook. "You're _all_ vegans?" Galinda asked.

"I'm not," Crope said.

"Oh thank god." They made pasta with a fresh herb pesto and sauteed vegetables. Elphaba had no idea what sauteeing was, but it was good. The wine Tibbett and Galinda shared and chatted about was not good. Elphaba hated wine. Watching them was an interesting reminder that Tibbett was born rich, however. It created some weird cognitive dissonance listening to Tibbett, in her ripped jeans and jacket, her combat boots and dyed hair, chat about fine northern-Gillikin wines with Galinda.

By the time they were all ready to part ways, the two of them were quite tipsy, and the sun had well and truly set. Galinda was picked up by her Ama, Mrs. Clutch. Tibbett was staying and taking part in some family event the next day. Crope was deciding between staying or leaving since she had a client in the early afternoon.

After an embarrassing amount of time hovering and trying to get their courage up, Elphaba finally became impatient with themselves and cleared their throat. "Give me a lift," they said. Crope looked at them, caught off guard. "...I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Crope glanced at Tibbett. Some wordless communication happened between them.

"... Alright."


	11. All Men Are Pigs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is All Men Are Pigs, by Studio Killers (of course.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCqzd-gYJXE  
> I encourage giving the song a listen all the way through because it changes the context of the title quite a bit! 
> 
> Content warning for elements of abuse, reference to sexual assault, and A Lot of Sexism.

"...So on behalf of the student body of Crage Hall, I wish all of you the best of luck. Thank you!"

Galinda grinned winningly at the field of Ozma Towers boys below her. They cheered and clapped, some of them calling things Galinda didn't try to decipher. She stepped aside for Avaric to replace her at the mic. Her job was basically done already - from here on, she just had to stand around, congratulate a few people and close up the event. Objects were thrown and passed about the crowd - a beach ball, a dildo, a half deflated blow up doll. Galinda hadn't expected them to be so rowdy, or for the staff to allow it.

"Thank you, Galinda." Avaric looked back at her with a charming smile. There were some whoops and whistles from the crowd. He addressed the audience. "Ozma Towers has always been an institution of athletic excellence, as well as academic superiority. We have dominated national competitions in swimming, football, and tennis, to only name a few. We value power. We value competition. We value success.

"Five years running, almost every record made on Ozma Tower's sports day has been broken by the next. That is Ozma Towers, our legacy." He grinned out at the crowd. "Let's make that six years!" The boys erupted with cheers, and led by Avaric still at the mic, they began to chant something very loud and masculine. Galinda smiled absently, searching the parameters of the crowd for Milla. She couldn't spot her.

Then, it was time for the events to commence.

There was one active running track, two active ovals and several other, smaller fields where competitions would be consistently running. Galinda now understood why Pfannee had to help with the time management; everything was timed and paced and arranged very carefully, so there were never any hiccups with winners being announced at the wrong times or students being unable to compete in one competition because of another. It was all very elaborate, and clearly important to Ozma Tower's traditions.

Galinda spent most of this time sitting in the third-year bleachers - she was not a third year, but Avaric was, and it was where all the Ozma prefects were sitting. She was forced to watch the track field.

Many of the Ozma boys looked up to catch her eye from the field. The younger ones mostly flustered. Some of them showed off for her, pretending to not have noticed her looking. The majority didn't even reach that depressingly low bar of subtly; they grinned, or winked, or nodded, or pulled up their shirts to flash their abs. Some had even grabbed themselves through their shorts.

Galinda should have been surprised they had the courage to even engage with her, let alone be so uncomfortably forward, especially with Avaric sitting right beside her. But she was not. She knew the ways of Ozma Tower's young men all too well. She had been dating them since she was still in highschool. They were the beginning and end of almost every big party within her sphere. They were, above all, obnoxious. But Galinda kept these things to herself. 

Avaric didn't seem to care either way. He was watching the runners. Galinda found that odd, and cleared her throat at him. He turned his head slightly toward her. "Your peers are being rude."

"Yeah," Avaric agreed distractedly, then looked at her. "What happened?"

"A few of them have been flashing their muscles at me," Galinda said wrlyly. "And cockgrabbing."

"They're all worked up right now," Avaric muttered. He looked at her with a frown. "Don't pay them too much attention, alright?"

It sounded more like a chiding than a reassurance, and Galinda grimaced. "I wasn't. I was just looking around and they started doing it at me."

"Then don't look around. It'll just encourage them."

"Don't look around? What am I meant to do then?"

Avaric gestured at the field. "Watch the competition, maybe?"

Galinda looked from the track to Avaric. "That's boring," Galinda said flatly. "Running is boring to watch."

Avaric glanced around them quickly and leaned close to her. "I don't care, okay? Can you just not ogle people for five fucking seconds? Sorry to break the news but you're not here to be a slut."

Galinda stared hard at Avaric, her chest tightening painfully. "I'm going to get a drink," she said quietly, and stood up, walking down the bleachers.

Galinda was trembling as she looked for Shenshen. She couldn't believe he had said that, even after how nice he'd been to her for the last week. How could he be so sweet and then so mean just like that? What was going on with him?

Galinda kept a good pace as she moved toward the tents set up for staff and facilities, not wanting to invite any conversation. She realised belatedly that a group of men were calling out to her as she passed them. They started waving her over the second she actually acknowledged them. She wanted to give them the cold shoulder. She waved back instead, calling "Good luck, boys!", and increased her pace to the tents.

She was relieved when she finally made it to Shenshen. She joined her around the back of a table covered with snacks and bottles of gatorade. Galinda curled an arm around her waist, sighing massively. "I hate sports."

"Hey! Whoa, you do not look happy." Shenshen offered her an orange slice. "Sugar boost?"

"No thanks," Galinda muttered. "The boys here are so gross. Have they been gross with you? Because they're gross with me."

"Not really. Guess you're kind of the prime target though. I'm just enjoying all these views to be honest," Shenshen said with a grin, looking at a young man standing topless nearby. Galinda huffed shortly. She was not in the mood for looking at half naked men. Or any men at all.

"I'm _so_ digging those shorts," Shenshen continued distractedly.

"I'm glad you're having fun," Galinda said, taking a bottle. "I have no idea what to do. I might go find Milla." Galinda belatedly added, "or Pfannee. Someone I know."

"Pfannee is about three tents down. I have no idea where Milla is. She might actually be watching the events since she's the sporty type, right?"

"Hm, maybe." Galinda sure hoped not.

She went the few tents down to where Pfannee was standing with a couple of teachers. The table in front of her had printed maps of the campus, event time tables, lists of competitors and lists of teams and their members. When she noticed Galinda approaching, she frowned, puzzled.

"What are you doing here?" Pfannee asked immediately.

"Keeping myself busy. The only other thing to do is watch sports." Galinda glanced back at the track, and then at Pfannee. "Not exactly my idea of fun."

"You should stay with Avaric. It might cause delays if you're wondering around-"

"It'll be fine, Pfannee, I know where I need to be when," Galinda reassured her. Pfannee nodded stiffly. Galinda tried not to be annoyed at the visceral worry coming off of Pfannee, and reminded herself of what Milla had said. She probably had anxiety. Actually, she definitely had anxiety - Galinda was a bit embarrassed she hadn't noticed it herself. "What are you up to?" Galinda asked, joining her at her side, determined to compensate for her own irritation.

"Nothing much."

"Yeah, I'm pretty bored too."

"I'm not really bored. There's plenty to do making sure things go on time. But that involves waiting." Galinda observed Pfannee as she flicked through a binder she had before her, full of notes about the day. She glanced up at the track, then leaned toward Galinda. "And… there are a lot of hot guys," she said quietly, peering at Galinda with a little smile. "A few have flirted with me, too."

Galinda felt herself smile despite the continued focus on the Ozma boys, only because Pfannee seemed to earnest. "Have you been flirting back?"

"Oh, no. I have _no_ idea how to do that." Pfannee fell briefly quiet, then smiled unsurely at Galinda. "Hopefully one of them just finds me really cute and does the work for me?"

Galinda laughed slightly. "Let's hope so." Galinda glanced out at them, then looked back at Pfannee. "Be careful Pfannee," she said delicately. "There are lots of immature men in Ozma Towers. Men that don't know how to treat people right."

Pfannee flashed an odd kind of smile. "I guess. That's why they're at this school, right? Hopefully I find an Avaric."

 _God, no._ Galinda was a bit taken aback by her own gut reaction. She pushed away from the table. "Speaking of, I'd better go back to Avaric…"

"Yes! Go go go." Pfannee nudged her off, and then returned to her work promptly.

Galinda kept her head down as she made her way back to the bleachers. She was just going to pull out her phone. She knew Morrible would disapprove, but she was too uncomfortable to care.

She found herself thinking about what Pfannee had said. _That's why they're at this school, right?_ They were meant to be learning to be gentlemen. To be respected members of Gillikin's high society, to be good husbands and excellent fathers, to be pillars of their communities and fair in their business. Galinda hadn't seen a shred of it. Ever.

Was it the men, or the school?

It was probably both. But didn't the school have more of a responsibility? Were these young men doomed to immaturity, spoiled at an early age, like Avaric was? Galinda had no idea. But she wondered what the point of Ozma Towers was if all the boys within it were as reckless and cruel as any other kind of boy.

Not that she knew many boys that were not from Ozma Towers. Perhaps they were even worse. Galinda hoped not - she would rather her hope in such a large part of the population didn't disappear altogether.

She was stopped on her way by hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see it was Avaric. She stepped back, crossed her arms. "Hey…"

"Can I talk to you?" He asked. "Alone?"

"Sure," she said worriedly. He lead her to one of the nearby buildings and turned the corner so they were out of sight from the majority of the event. "What's up?" Galinda asked, glancing around the area. They were certainly alone.

Avaric was focused on Galinda. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry about before. I was really snappy."

Galinda stared at him blankly for a moment. "Oh… Okay." She relaxed slightly, her arms dropping.

"I was just jealous, you know? I can't help it with you being here at our school. Especially on sports day. These things are so competitive. Have to keep proving I'm the boss or whatever."

"It's stressful, huh?" Galinda asked.

"I hate it," he admitted with a solemn smile.

"You're putting up a good performance," she said stiffly, and regretted being so catty. He didn't seem to notice the barb in it and smiled at her.

"Well, that's good. This is _not_ the event to start faltering…" He glanced toward the fields, and scowled. "They really are awful, aren't they."

"They are."

"It must be something in men, you know. Born with or raised with it, I don't know. Unless you catch yourself or you're just different - but it's rare, you know? Most men are just so callous."

"Right…" Galinda said, studying him with a quiet suspicion. As if he were really so different from them.

"I'm really sorry, Glin."

Galinda wrestled with herself. Just a minute ago she had felt so angry at him. Now she also felt bad for him, because it would be cruel to _not_ feel bad for him. Besides, she should have anticipated he would lash out on such a day, when all of the usual pressures on him were intensified.

So she put the anger aside, albeit reluctantly. "It's fine." She stepped into his arms, hugging his waist. He squeezed her and sighed, obviously relieved. "I know you're under a lot of pressure here, Avaric."

"Yeah, no kidding." He pulled back slightly. "Just, if you could… to make this easier for me… try not to pay any attention to the guys? They're just looking for a way to challenge me."

"I promise you, I am _not_ interested in looking at other men right now. Promise." That was genuine, at least.

"Good." He kissed her gently, and pulled away with a smile. "Guess we'd better get back."

"Ugh. Alright."

"Still bored?" Galinda looked at him with her face in a bunch. He laughed slightly. "Just get out your phone," he said teasingly. "I promise I won't dob you in."

She smiled back warily. "Thanks. I'm more worried I'll be accosted by Morrible. Terrifying."

Avaric took her hand in his. With Avaric walking at her side, the boys around her demurred somewhat. She was relieved, but frustrated. She'd rather not need Avaric to be literally holding her hand to avoid being harassed.

The first round of announcements began. Galinda did a circuit of all the different fields, naming winners to very enthusiastic crowds of sweaty young men. It was mundane. She did get to see Milla every now and then, though it was literally just seeing her - she was too busy moving podiums and step ladders and sports equipment to come over and chat. She did give Galinda a wink and a smile. Those small gestures somehow felt massive to Galinda at the moment, like a safe and steady hand on her back. She became quite emotional. She pulled it together quickly, and reluctantly returned to smiling at those endless, disconcerting boys.

She finally got a moment with Milla after the announcements had concluded. Galinda just about fell into her arms, in the safety of a little alcove within the gymnasium. "Milla," Galinda sighed massively. "I hate this."

"I _know_ , right?" Milla breathed. She took Galinda by the shoulders and looked at her wide-eyed. "Glin, what the fuck is with these guys? What do they even teach them at this school? I've never seen people be so aggressively like a literal jock stereotype."

Galinda laughed slightly. "You haven't been to enough parties to know better."

"They're really like this at parties?"

Galinda paused. "... Yes and no? It's complicated." Milla frowned at her. "Okay," Galinda began, "The difference is that usually they're not jocks so much as, like… super rich assholes, I guess? They have more of a superiority complex. But they're in full jock mode right now."

Milla studied her silently for a long moment. "... How can you stand this?"

Galinda stared back, unable to think of a good answer. "I don't know. I can't. Not right now." She pushed her hair back, looked away from Milla's fierce eyes. "They aren't usually this overt. I think they're just riled up."

"Wishful thinking."

"Trust me, I know these guys. I've dated three of them."

Milla gave her a pitying look. "I'm sorry."

Galinda smiled lopsidedly. "Kind of had to."

"Why?"

"Family tradition," Galinda murmured. "Anyway. I'm seriously over this. They've been trying… very hard, to get my attention. A couple of them grabbed their dicks at me."

"Oh my god," Milla muttered, grimacing with disgust. "In my case, I think they're scared of me…? Or they're disgusted. Or they call me a dyke to their friend. I haven't heard it, but I can lip read slurs."

"I'm sorry," Galinda said sincerely, as if apologising for a child. Milla laughed slightly.

"Not your fault."

Galinda crossed her arms. "... I told Avaric about the cock grabbing. He didn't even care. He's so jealous and he doesn't care about _that_."

Milla looked genuinely confused by that. "That is… really weird. I mean, you'd think he'd at least be consistent in his creepy possessive behaviour."

" _Right!?_ I don't know what's up with him! Every time I think I get what's going on in his head, he totally flips." Galinda sighed exhaustively, leaning into Milla again. "I feel like I'm going crazy," she murmured against Milla's shoulder.

"You're not going crazy, Galinda," Milla reassured her. "You just have a fucked up boyfriend."

Galinda turned that over in her head. Fucked up was one way to put it. She leaned off of Milla. "Anyway. He apologised right after…"

"Of course he did."

"It's this event. It's all about competition and masculinity - it's the exact thing that makes him shitty like this."

"A convenient excuse," Milla muttered.

Galinda frowned slightly. "It's not just an excuse," Galinda said. "It's his reality. I've seen it over and over."

"Sure, yeah," Milla said evasively. "I'm sorry, I should probably go back to lifting stuff. One of their gym teachers wanted me to get the hurdles from the store room here."

Galinda reluctantly let her go. She had to go to the bathroom anyway. She was about to use the gym toilets, and then remembered the bathroom Avaric had been put in charge of cleaning.

Galinda headed over to Pfannee's tent to get directions. She was genuinely a bit curious to see what a toilet taken care of by these boys would be like, but mostly she just thought it would please Avaric to know she'd gone in and seen it, and been impressed. She was directed to go to the staff centre and turn right, down the hall toward the library.

She found it, and pushed open the door.

Milla appeared from around the corner. Galinda didn't look up to see it - she heard it, and she saw Milla's feet as she approached Galinda, somewhat hesitant. She stopped a pace away, hovered silently. She cleared her throat. "... Hey." Galinda peered up at her. Milla frowned, before her face settled into a mask of cool anger. "What did he do?" She asked quietly.

Galinda glanced away and back up at her. "Look in the bathroom."

Milla pointed at the door. "This one?"

"Yeah. What other one?"

"Alright," Milla said warily. She opened the door and peered inside. She hung half in the doorway for a while. Galinda heard her say something that echoed through the bathroom quietly, but Galinda couldn't make it out.

She came and sat beside Galinda. "... Well. That's horrifying."

"There's things up there about all of us," Galinda muttered.

"Yeah. I saw." Milla smiled stiffly. "I mean, I always knew they thought was an 'unfuckble Munchkin dyke'. Bit unoriginal. The ones about you and Shenshen were, uh..."

"That bathroom is taken care of by Avaric. It's this student initiative thing. He's in charge of keeping it clean."

"Oh."

"I think I feel sick," Galinda said. She looked at Milla. "Is that being melodramatic? Feeling sick because of this?"

Milla curled an arm around Galinda's shoulders. "No."

"I don't want to be here," Galinda said quietly. "Can I leave?"

Milla stood up, and pulled Galinda to her feet, holding her steadily. "Let's talk to the staff. I'll be shocked if they make you stay."

"Morrible…"

"Morrible is at least a woman," Milla muttered, holding her hand and leading her to the staff centre. "Even she should understand this."

They went to the reception desk and asked to talk to Morrible and the most senior female staff member of Ozma Towers. Morrible looked pinched and flustered when she emerged from the vice principal's office, with the vice principal herself. "Miss Arduenna! What is it, my dear? Mrs. Whittle and I were in _very important_ meeting."

Galinda put on her game face. "Excuse me, Madame Morrible. Milla and I have found something extremely troubling in one of the bathrooms on campus," Galinda said calmly, talking instead to the vice principal. "The one maintained by the students? You see, I am in a relationship with your head boy, Avaric, and so I wanted to see it. I knew he was proud of being given such a responsibility. But it has left me quite disturbed."

Morrible looked frustrated, but Mrs. Whittle, to her credit, looked genuinely concerned. "I see. I will have someone look into it, Miss Arduenna."

"I would prefer if you looked at it yourself," Galinda said. "Right now." She earned a knife-edge look from Morrible for her impertinence.

Mrs. Whittle was approaching impatience herself. "Miss Arduenna, I have very important matters to discuss with Madame Morrible-"

"Please, Mrs. Whittle. This is not simply an unhygienic bathroom. This shows a fundamental disrespect of women. You should both see it."

The women paused, and looked at each other hesitantly. "Very well," Mrs. Whittle said. "We can resume this discussion after, Madame. Lead the way, ladies."

Both women entered the bathroom, and emerged wide eyed and shocked. Mrs. Whittle was upon Galinda immediately, taking her hands and squeezing them harm. "I am… _truly_ sorry, my dear. I couldn't have imagined our boys would write such…" she fought for a word, but gave up. "I _do_ apologise."

"Thank you, Mrs. Whittle," Galinda said. "My friend and fellow prefect, Milla, was also targeted. As well as our other prefects, Pfannee and Shenshen."

Mrs. Whittle blinked at her, and at Milla. She belatedly kicked into action. "Of course. And I am sorry to you also, my dear," she said to Milla. "Vile things. Vile, vile things."

"Thank you," Milla said a bit uncomfortably, glancing at Galinda.

"I understand how important tradition is within Ozma Towers, but Miss Milla and I would like to go home."

Morrible chose that moment to pipe up, of course. "Miss Arduenna, it would be unbecoming of Crage Hall's Head Girl to go back on such an important promise! I understand this has upset you, my dear, but it is part of your education to be unmoved by such things."

"I fear I will not do my job sufficiently here," Galinda said with a harder and slightly more desperate voice - the desperation was not intentional. But it seemed to move Mrs. Whittle.

"Let the girls go, Madame," she said kindly. "I'm sure the last thing they want to is be around any of the young men that might have wrote those things about them. It's quite understandable." Mrs. Whittle took her hand again, squeezing it. "You go home, dear, and you take care of yourself. You too, Miss Milla. And I will be having a very stern word to everyone involved in this."

"Thank you, Mrs. Whittle," Galinda said with barely restrained relief.

"Not at all. Off with you now," she said with a smile, and turned to Madame Morrible. They went back off to the staff centre, though Morrible did leave Galinda with a steely look.

When they'd turned out of sight, Galinda exhaled slowly. She looked at Milla.

"So we're getting out of here, I guess?" Milla asked with a little smile.

"Oh," Galinda intoned. "I didn't ask you, did I? Yeah. Do you mind?"

"No. I hate these guys." Milla took her hand. "Your place?"

"My place." Galinda texted Ama Clutch for a ride, and then Shenshen and Pfannee as they made their way off campus. She told them that they had both been upset and had to leave. She promised the details later.

"By the way, the way you talk to Morrible is terrifying and I don't know how you do it naturally."

"Its how I talk to my parents," Galinda said offhandedly, debating whether to text Avaric.

"That's even worse."

"Tell me about it." Galinda put her phone away. She didn't text Avaric.

Because fuck Avaric.

* * *

An hour later they were in Galinda's room, eating expensive delivered food, trying to process what had happened.

"That was fucked up, right?" Galinda asked.

"Yeah," Milla replied unsurely. "Of course."

"Okay. I feel like it's not that big a deal, but I'm making it a big deal…"

"It was fucking gross, Galinda. You're justified in being disgusted. I'm disgusted, and they didn't write half as much about me."

Galinda fell quiet, pushing around the food on her plate. "I don't get it. I don't understand why it was there."

"Because they're evil and Avaric probably doesn't care enough to do anything about it?"

"Maybe," Galinda said softly. "He seemed really proud of that bathroom. Because he was managing it. I don't know."

"I wouldn't trust anything Avaric says as far as I can throw him."

Galinda worked her jaw. "You know what bugs me about it?"

"What?"

"They've been looking at me all day and- and making me uncomfortable. Winking at me. Flashing me. Grabbing themselves. I thought it was weird. I didn't understand how they could just do that while Avaric was there."

"Mm."

"But the things they wrote up there. That he obviously lets them write." Galinda looked at Milla. "They wrote about raping me," Galinda said disbelievingly.

Milla grimaced. "Yeah."

Galinda was briefly rendered silent at the memory. "What the fuck," she said flatly. "What the fuck? How could he allow that? He's so possessive. _Why?_ " Galinda dropped her head into her hands.

"I don't know," Milla murmured.

"I should ask him."

"But…"

"But I don't want to talk to him or look at him." Galinda looked up at Milla. "I… I think I'm going to break up with him."

Milla sat up, eyes widening slightly. "Really? Finally?"

"I can't just forgive this," Galinda said to herself. "Not again. I can't keep looking over these things! How long until it's too far? When he calls me a cunt? When he locks me in his car to yell at me!? When he calls me a slut for complaining about his friends _sexually harassing me!?_ Isn't that too much!? How can he justify that-"

"Galinda," Milla said, holding her arm and looking at her seriously. "Has he done all of those things?"

"Yes," Galinda sighed. "He's done all of that. More."

Milla stared off at nothing. "That fucking rat..."

"And I looked past it, because - because he's _struggling_. He's so confused about himself. So he lashes out, and I - I can deal with it, I was, but it's too much lately! And this isn't the same as that. This has no excuse."

"None of it does, Galinda," Milla said stonily. She held Galinda's shoulders, glaring at her with a kind of righteous anger that wasn't toward Galinda, but for her. "That's _abuse_. He's abusing you, Galinda. You _must_ break up with him."

"Abuse?" Galinda asked. "But, he hasn't…"

"Galinda. It's abuse," Milla said firmly. She sighed to herself, rubbed her eyes. "I've suspected he was abusive for ages, but… it's not something you say lightly, I guess. I didn't think it'd gotten that blatant. You need to break up with him, Galinda."

Galinda nibbled at her lip as she thought about it. "I don't know if he's abusive or not. I appreciate your opinion, but that's something I need to come to myself."

"That's fair," Milla said somewhat grudgingly.

"Either way, you're probably right. I do need to break up with him." Galinda looked up at Milla, her jaw set stubbornly. "But I'm gonna do it in my own time… Okay?"

Milla searched her face. "... Okay."

Galinda nodded, and finally took a bite of her food. She cleared her throat slightly. "Could you, um… stay over tonight?"

Milla smiled lopsidedly. "Sure."

They went in the pool, lounged in the sun, watched so many movies they'd all blended together. At the end of the day Galinda was tucked in bed, in Milla's small, strong arms. Galinda lay awake thinking. Worrying, more accurately. Galinda's worry manifested as imagined scenarios. Imagined conversations between Avaric and his friends. Between Shenshen and Pfannee. Between anyone who knew Galinda. Conversations about Galinda, and all of the things that were wrong with her.

Currently, she was imagining Milla had been privately surprised at the lack of sex initiated by Galinda. She could picture Milla talking to the Kumbric sisters about how desperate Galinda usually was, and that it seemed out of character for her to not sleep with someone at the first given chance. Galida could imagine Milla thinking that. Milla more or less _said_ that before on the phone. Always DTF.

Galinda shook, and couldn't stop herself. She didn't want to wake or keep Milla up, but it seemed it was too late. A hand brushed over Galinda's arm. "Glin?" Milla murmured.

"Sorry, did I-?"

"No." Milla's arms squeezed her gently. "Whats wrong?"

Galinda sighed, and it was somewhat watery. She didn't know what to say. How to describe the anxiety behind her thoughts. The insecurity.

"I'm disgusting," she said quietly.

Galinda felt Milla stiffen behind her. Then Milla laughed slightly, rubbing her shoulder. "Glin. After the day you've had, with those Ozma assholes... you think _you're_ the disgusting one?"

Galinda sniffled, and wiped at her face. "Sounds silly when you put it like that."

"It's not silly," Milla said. "But it is wrong. You aren't disgusting, Galinda. I can promise you that." She felt Milla press a kiss to her back.

"Thanks."

"You know who is disgusting?"

They both paused, and said it together: "Avaric." Milla laughed quietly. Galinda smiled at the moment, and then stopped smiling at the thought of him.

"Fuck him," she said quietly.

"Yeah. Fuck Avaric."


	12. The Wrong Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is The Wrong Year by The Decemberists: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98XFrVREkm8
> 
> Warning for transphobia and religious parents being assholes in general.

Elphaba was on a train, making their way to their family's home. Nessa had messaged them saying she missed them and wanted to see them. They'd been torn, but eventually given in. The last time Nessa invited them over for dinner they'd somehow ended up singing at a ceremony the next day, thoroughly guilted into obedience, but they couldn't deny Nessa when it came down to it.

They would have normally had a tying session that afternoon, but Galinda had suddenly cancelled. They'd had a brief, somewhat concerning exchange about it; it was obvious something had happened, but Galinda had been unusually reluctant to talk about it. Elphaba wasn't the type to press someone for personal information, so they hadn't. Though they privately hoped she was okay.

They arrived at the church grounds at midday. It appeared deserted, though Elphaba knew at this time of year there must have been at least a dozen young fundraisers living somewhere within the camp grounds. They spotted a van they hadn't seen before parked by the eastern cabins, and considered it confirmation. Fundraising always happened in teams of ten to twenty young people, who went out every day in twos and sold cheap items for a profit for the church. Usually chocolate. Most of them were from Munchkinland.

Elphaba knocked on the front door of their family home. The door was answered, unsurprisingly, by Frex. "Fabalaq," Frex said warmly.

"Father," Elphaba replied shortly, coming into the kitchen when Frex stepped out of the way to welcome them in. "I'm here to see Nessa."

"Of course," Frex said with a smile, pacing over to the kettle. "She's currently in the middle of her bows. Will you have a cup of tea?"

"Her bows?" Elphaba asked, confused. "You're not helping her?"

"She wanted to do them alone." Frex followed Elphaba as they left the kitchen and went down the hall, toward the prayer room. "She feels they'll be a greater offering to God, and I agree-"

"She could injure her knees," Elphaba snapped.

"God protects the faithful-"

"God cannot grow her arms." They opened the door. Nessa was sat on a chair, her head bent down so she could read the Cheon Seong Gyeong open on her lap. She looked up upon Elphaba's entry, and grinned brightly.

"Fabala!"

"Nessie," Elphaba said, a greeting and an expression of bemusement. They glanced at Frex, who looked back impassively. Elphaba gave him a grimace and then went over to half hug Nessa. "Just reading?"

"Yes, but I can stop here," Nessa said, glancing at her father quickly. "Would you like some tea? I could use some tea."

Frex offered to make it and left the room. Elphaba waited till he was in the kitchen, then knelt beside Nessa. "He told me you were bowing."

"I was this morning."

"Without his assistance?"

Nessa rolled her eyes slightly. "It's fine, Elphie. I don't drop down like I did before, and I put a pillow out. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Alright," Elphaba said skeptically.

"I'm pretty good at it now. I can get up and down myself from my knees. It's all about balance and momentum…"

They went out to the garden. There was a table and two chairs to have tea under the veranda, right by the roses Frex maintained. Elphaba had always found his roses interesting; there was a surprisingly feminine flare to the precious nature in which he kept them, mulching and pruning and protecting them from pests. But it was an undoubtedly religious exercise. To tend to the greatest Unionist symbol day in, day out, to have it growing in your own home. How very Frex.

Elphaba bought the tea and biscuits out. Frex mercifully left, having to do something around the grounds. He was the groundskeeper as well as the reverend since he lived on the property. He managed most of it himself, though he did draw on the various young missionaries staying at any given time for free labour.

Elphaba relaxed a little, finally alone with their sister. Elphaba smiled at her lopsidedly. "So."

"So," Nessa responded, and leant over to sip a little tea through a straw.

"How's school been?"

"Fine," Nessa said. "Strange. Not the sort of school life I expected."

"You were looking forward to university."

"Only because of you," Nessa said with a look, and then smiled. "Yes, I was. But I don't mind this… it's been a very interesting experience. I've never known girls like them."

Rich girls. "They're not better than you, you know," Elphaba said. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Nessa said. "They don't treat me badly. But - well, we're meant to have dancing this semester…"

"You can't take something else?" Elphaba asked.

"It's compulsory."

"Surely they'd make an exception."

Nessa shrugged. Elphaba grimaced. "I don't mind," Nessa said softly, an angelic cover she had for her own insecurity. "There were some looks. Pity, mostly. They're too polite for outright nastiness, not like that anyway. But it's interesting to watch the dancing. Usually they're each dancing alone with their arms up, like they're dancing with ghosts. Sometimes they dance with each other. It looks like a lot of fun."

Elphaba rubbed their sister's back. "I'm sorry, Nessie…"

"It's fine, really," she said firmly. "I just meant it's fun to watch. And I'm still the best in our diction classes. They're all monolingual - they don't know how to really get their mouths around a word."

"I'm sure. Have you been showing off your four languages?"

"Not yet." Elphaba smirked at her conspiratorial glance. "I'm keeping it for later, when I really need it."

"When you need it?"

"When I need ammo in the game." At Elphaba's inquisitive frown she added, "The game is a sort of... unsaid competition that goes on. It's kind of about popularity, but it's more about respect. That's what Prefect Pfannee told us in Debating the other day. She said girls are always getting it mixed up."

"Getting what mixed up?"

"Popularity and respect. It's not about people liking you, it's about people respecting you. If you don't have their respect, you'll crumble. So I'm keeping my languages for when I'm in trouble of losing respect. For now I'm safe because I'm pretty and smarter than them."

Elphaba blinked at her. "Well… as long as you're safe, I suppose."

"Indeed," Nessa remarked. "There was some interesting gossip this week. School-wide gossip, not stupid gossip."

"Mm," Elphaba responded, rapidly losing interest but willing themself to give Nessa their full attention while they were actually here.

"It was about the Head Girl, Galinda."

Elphaba was suddenly very interested. "What happened?"

"Well, there's this sports day that happens at Ozma Towers, our brother school. Each year our Head Girl goes over and hosts the event. We're encouraged to attend, too - I didn't, because I don't like the boys from there. But apparently something happened on the day, and Galinda Arduenna just left. It wasn't even the afternoon yet. She just went home. It threw the day into chaos."

Elphaba frowned slightly. "I see."

"Some girls think its drama between her and her boyfriend, Avaric. He's the Head Boy of Ozma Towers."

"Ah."

"They think Pfannee and Avaric were flirting, and it sent Galinda into a jealous rage and then she left.

"I doubt it," Elphaba said distractedly, turning over this information and Galinda cancelling their tying session in their head.

"... What? Why's that?" Elphaba looked at her. "Why do you doubt it?"

Elphaba regretted letting that slip, though there was no real reason to hide it. "Galinda and I know each other a little," Elphaba said dismissively. "Raging doesn't sound like her."

"You know Galinda Arduenna?" Nessa murmured, with shock or awe. "How?"

"Met at a party. What else have you heard about all this?"

"Nothing really. Elphie, if I mention you to Galinda… do you think she might talk to me?"

Elphaba frowned at Nessa. "I suppose. What do you have to talk to her about?"

"Nothing in particular, but… well, the game," she said gingerly. "As a first year, being friendly with the Head Girl would be a big deal. You don't need to do anything! But are you familiar enough that if I mentioned you she might talk to me?"

Elphaba thought that over. "... Yes, I guess. Nessa, are you sure you want to play this game?"

Nessa straightened. "Why shouldn't I?"

"It just sounds… foolish." It sounded dangerous to Elphaba. Nessa was someone vulnerable to social viciousness.

"It's not foolish. It's training."

Elphaba scoffed. "Right. Training to fake your way to being popular, how useful."

"I told you, it's not about popularity," Nessa shot back with a pout.

"I know, it's about respect, but consider this. Respect is more serious than popularity - respecting someone is essential to considering their experience... so what happens when you lose it? What happens when someone loses the game?"

"Ostracization, I suppose," Nessa said gingerly.

"And you don't find that cruel?" Elphaba asked.

"It is cruel, to a point," Nessa allowed. "But that's what that school is like. They teach social interaction like it's a competition, and to succeed the competition you have all of these - power plays. It can be cruel, if you don't keep up you'll be left behind, but it's also rewarding. It's about power. Real power, that comes just from how you communicate…"

"Power that doesn't require arms," Elphaba said, arching their brow. Nessa looked away from them. "I understand the appeal."

"It made me feel victorious. Bold. To outmaneuver another girl. I'm not bad at it, either."

"I'm sure you're quite good at it. I'm not familiar with this game, but I imagine starting with other people's expectations lowered is an advantage," Elphaba mused. "You can strike when they least expect it."

"Exactly!" Nessa said excitedly. "They see how I look and they think I'm some useless, stupid girl, and I let them think it, until I make them look like an idiot in front of half of the second years."

Elphaba studied Nessa's proud, arrogant face. Nessa had always been somewhat arrogant - everyone born into a cult such as theirs had an ego - but Elphaba had not seen her look like that. They wondered how much of it was vindication against ableist peers, and how much was a petty power trip.

"Nessa," Elphaba said, and Nessa was already reacting to their tone, exasperated and defensive. "Please remember that being cruel is not justified because it makes you feel better, and that it's more likely to alienate you than get you respect. Maybe that works in Crage Hall, but… well, the rest of the world isn't Crage Hall."

"Elphie-" Nessa sighed.

"That said, if you're treated badly, give back as good as you get."

Nessa stared at Elphaba for a moment. Then she smiled a little. "... Okay."

"I think you should try to talk to Galinda," Elphaba said. "If it'll help how you're treated at school."

"It will."

"Perhaps not now, if there's been an incident recently. Let me talk to her first."

"Something definitely happened. It was only a few days ago, but she's been different. Not as…" Nessa paused. "Not as loud, with her presence. Plus her and prefect Milla have become friends, which is just _weird_."

"Ah, I know Milla too."

"Seriously? Are they friends after all?" Nessa asked eagerly.

 _Who knows_ , Elphaba thought. "Yes, something like that. Anyway. Be careful with all of this, Nessa."

"I will," she said confidently. "As I said. I'm quite good at it."

Elphaba wasn't yet sure that was a good thing. But they hoped Galinda might be able to give Nessa some guidance. Not that they knew her all that well; she might only entrench Nessa further into their 'game'.

They talked on about school and the visiting fundraising team - Elphaba knew a couple of them, having met them at various workshops and events during their youth - and then ended up on the topic of Frex. But they didn't talk about him much before the man himself reappeared. He took their mugs and dishes into the kitchen, calling out to them as he moved through the house, a habit of his Elphaba had always found annoying. "Are you staying for lunch, Fabalaq? I'm making bulgogi."

Elphaba held Nessa's eye for a moment. She didn't have to say anything to make Elphaba feel guilty. They stood, walked into the house. "I don't eat meat."

"I can just use tofu." Frex turned to look at them hovering silently in the hall. He frowned when they didn't answer. "If you're going to go I would like to talk to you first."

Elphaba pulled out their phone to look at the time. They'd only been there an hour. They sighed. "Dad…"

"Come, my child. I see you once a month. We cannot have a simple talk?"

"... Fine," Elphaba said stiffly. They cross their arms and went over to stand between him and the front door - in case they needed a quick exit from any horrible conversations. Being closer to him now, they noticed how clean he looked. Hair cropped and brushed, his face clean shaven.

For some reason, it struck them as odd. There hadn't been a holy day. Frexspar didn't have the energy to clean up every Sunday anymore. The oddness of it was enough to throw them off.

"There is a matter I wanted to discuss…" Frex's words brought them back to attention.

"What."

Frex glanced at the hall. Nessa was probably in her room, sulking about Elphaba's callousness. "I had a meeting this week. Two nights ago. With Sarima's parents."

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "Sarima's parents…?"

"Yes." He eyed them critically. "Shes told them shes a homosexual, and that she'd… fallen. She's fallen."

By that, Frex meant that Sarima had admitted to pre-marital sex. There was a nebulous difference between fallen behaviour and _being_ fallen. Someone wasn't truly lost until they'd broken that most sacred rule.

Elphaba knew that about her, of course, though they were surprised Sarima had told her parents. "I see." Their eyes narrowed slightly on him. "And I come into this… how?"

Frex shifted. "Apparently, she professed an interest in you. Her parents don't know to what degree, but - well, you were mentioned during the argument that followed her confession." He examined Elphaba. "Do you happen to know anything about that?"

"Not at all." Elphaba glared at him. "A meeting. That's why you're looking so fresh. Trying to get me married again, hm?"

"Fabalaq," He began.

"I thought they were intent on Fiyero. Both their parents seemed convinced they were made for each other."

"Clearly not," Frex remarked. "She's fallen."

"Spiritually beneath him," Elphaba goaded. "That _is_ what that means, right?" 

"That's a needlessly cruel way to put it," Frex evaded. "I thought you might be a good match. Maybe the match that was staring at us all along. Despite her confusion, she has something for you, and I think you would be good for her."

That really made Elphaba stop and pause. Frex had never considered Elphaba good for any of the blessed children. "In what way am I good for her?"

"She needs redemption. She has not lost God's grace - no one is truly lost to God. She only needs to prove herself."

Elphaba stared at him in confusion. Then, as his meaning occurred to them, they couldn't help scowling. "Indemnity?" they asked. "You see me as indemnity?"

Frex pressed his lips together and held their eye, a passive confirmation.

Elphaba's stomach churned with anger - with hurt. They felt themself trembling, felt their hands shaking even as they curled into tight fists. "Fuck you," they said stonily.

"Language, Fabalaq."

"Are you fucking serious? You can't expect me to take that well. Being told I'm a bloody punishment! That I'm to be suffered by some tragic believer so they may prove their worth! I'm a person, much as you'd like to deny it."

He scowled himself now. "Now you're just being dramatic - of course I consider you a person, you're my damn son!"

Elphaba flustered at the misgendering, but they didn't want to lose track of the point. "You have a funny way of showing it! People are not bartering chips or burdens or challenges, they are human beings. I am a human being," they said to him, their voice shaking. He flinched slightly.

Not with guilt. Disgust flickered across his face.

"But you never have believed that, have you," Elphaba said flatly. That look had taken all the fight out of them - there wasn't anything to prove to him. "I'm just one big condition to you."

He tilted his head, eyed them as if in warning. "Fabalaq, my child-"

"Stop lying. I'm not your child."

He jerked, like he'd been struck. They hadn't talked about it in almost a decade, even though it was obvious just looking at the two of them. Frex became fierce. "I care about you-"

"You care about being holy."

Elphaba left the house abruptly. They heard Frex coming after them, calling out their dead name. They walked faster up the path. They almost ran, desperate to avoid letting him too close, lest they turn around and punch him off his feet. They walked out of the church gates and to the train station instead of doing that. They took the train and they walked back home. And all that time they felt completely void. They felt void as they stomped up the stairs to their apartment door. They felt void as they fought with their lock.

They shut the door behind them.

..................................

.........................

...........

....

Elphaba was greeted by an enthusiastic Sarima at the door. "Hey," she said brightly. "It's so good to see you!"

"Hey, Sarima." They stepped aside to let her in. Her smile faltered at their lukewarm response, then powered on as she moved into the apartment.

"Had a good day?"

"Alright. You?"

"Good! Been reading all morning. I found this book by this super old Kumbric poet…" she glanced at Elphaba and looked embarrassed. "I mean, it's nothing like Yackle's work, but it's pretty good. Really captures that… primal side to her."

"Sounds interesting," Elphaba said, trying not to sound disinterested and failing miserably. Sarima looked slightly crushed.

"Um… you wanted to talk about something?"

Elphaba rubbed at the back of their neck, taking a deep breath. They exhaled slowly. "Our parents want us to get married."

Sarima looked blank. Then she smiled, confused. "What?"

"My dad told me. Today. About two hours ago. They think we'd be a good match."

"But… Fiyero." Sarima leaned back against the nearest surface - a kitchen counter - and stared at the floor. "I'm fallen," she said quietly, a realisation. "Of course. I'm fallen. But you aren't." She looked up at Elphaba with even more confusion. "You're not fallen, you're not even lying about it. Why…"

"My father thinks I would be good indemnity for you," Elphaba said, annoyed at how incredibly bitter they sounded.

"Asshole," Sarima said automatically. She gave Elphaba a soft look. "Elphie, I'm sorry…"

"It's fine. I thought you should know."

They fell quiet. Sarima tapped her foot against the floor restlessly. Elphaba wanted to ask her to stop. It was giving them a head ache. "What do you think of it?" Sarima asked.

Elphaba scoffed softly. "I think it's ridiculous. Frex knows how I feel about the matchings."

"Mm."

"And I…" They worked their jaw. "I can't believe he said it to my face." They felt Sarima look at them. "That I'd be your redemption. Get you back on the path of God. Because I'm such a spiritual challenge just to endure."

"Yeah," Sarima said quietly. "I think that might be the worst part of the church. The indemnity system. Everything leads back to that - proving yourself by suffering, commodifying divine forgiveness, using people- " Sarima stopped, took a calming breath. "But, you know all this I guess."

Elphaba grumbled an affirmation.

The foot tapping stopped. "Fae." Her voice was strange from the lowness of it. "Maybe we should do it."

Elphaba felt their gut lurch. "Why in Oz would I ever agree to that?" they asked quietly.

"Because it would get them off our backs," she offered. When Elphaba didn't respond, she pushed off of the counter, drifted toward them. "We don't need to be together. We can be friends. But it - it would solve our problems, right? They can stop asking about it. They can stop testing our faith all the time, stop telling us what to do. You don't want to get married anyway."

"Sarima, come on…"

"We can finally relax with our families," Sarima said, her voice changing. Elphaba's brow furrowed as they noticed how wet and oddly wide her eyes were. "You can stop avoiding your father so bad, and I can -" she cut herself off, and looked away. "I can talk to them again…"

"Did it go that badly?"

"Yes," Sarima breathed. "I thought they were going to disown me. They almost did."

"Shit," Elphaba sighed quietly.

"I want to fix things with them, Elphie." She took Elphaba's hands, squeezing hard. "I need to. And I think it'd be beneficial for both of us, because y-your dad can calm down, and I can have my parents back, and it won't be so fucked up anymore, you know? We can just fix it all and it doesn't even have to mean anything. It doesn't have to-"

Elphaba stared as Sarima turned away from them, wiping tears from her cheeks and gasping. "I can't do that, Sarima," Elphaba said gravely.

"Please," she managed, pressing her hands over her eyes.

"I can't. I'm sorry." Sarima let out a gut wrenching sob, and Elphaba didn't know what to do. They panicked slightly as Sarima began to cry in earnest. "Oh god. Uh… how can I help? I really can't marry you, but..."

Sarima glanced at them, and her face crumpled. She fell against them and wept into their chest, her arms curling tight around their waist. They winced slightly at the sting on their skin, but held her awkwardly. They muttered half hearted comforts.

Sarima eventually calmed down. She just stayed there for a bit, clinging to Elphaba, hiding her face against them. Elphaba patted her back softly; it's what they did when Nessa was upset and was their only experience in comforting someone. When Sarima eventually drew away, she wanted to leave as soon as possible. "Let's not pretend either of us want to talk about this anymore," she said tiredly.

"I can't at least offer a cup of tea?"

"I have tea at home." She gave Elphaba a watery look as she opened the door. "... Sorry."

Elphaba waved their hand, and Sarima left before they could give a real response. They hovered where they were, slightly stunned. Then they meandered into their room, dragging their hands down their face.

They weren't sure Sarima would talk to them ever again. They weren't sure they wanted her to.


	13. Boy Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Boy Problems by Carly Rae Jepsen! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1LNQBX8JwE

It was nine in the morning on a Saturday, and Galinda was standing on Avaric's massive lawn, waiting for him to come out and talk to her. She was reluctant to enter his house. Perhaps it was irrational, but she felt it would trap her somehow. Outside was bright and green and had very fine weather. Surely things couldn't go too terribly while they were outside on such a nice day.

Avaric opened the front door and leaned in the doorway, staring out to her. "Come in," he called. "I'll make you breakfast."

She shifted, then paced over to him. She stopped just short of the entryway. "I'd rather not."

Avaric raised his eyebrows. "Have to run?"

"Yeah."

He waited for more information. Then he realised she was done. He straightened up, crossed his arms, cleared this throat. "Okay, well… what did you want to talk about?"

"Did Mrs. Whittle explain why Milla and I left the sports day early?"

"No. Though the principle has said the prefects and I would be having a staff meeting this week." He frowned. "What… did something happen? I wondered since you'd been so quiet since then."

Galinda studied him. She tried to see something wrong in him. He just looked as he always had to her. Attractive, arrogant, pretending at strength. Avaric. "I went into the bathroom."

Avaric's face immediately cracked, looked like a kid being caught doing something bad, but he recovered fast. "Sorry, what?"

"The bathroom you have to clean. For your responsibility program. I went inside because I wanted to see what you'd been doing." Galinda flashed a cool smile. "Tell you how good a job you'd done."

His face fell for good this time, his eyes flicking away from hers.

"No response?" she asked after a few moments.

"I didn't write any of those things, Glin-"

"Wrong answer," Galinda responded, her voice trembling. She wasn't sure if it was with hurt or rage.

"It was better than it was before, okay?" Avaric's voice was already rising defensively. "It was a total mess before. We had to scrub them off everything, paint over them again and again. So we made a rule - keep it to that wall, it's cleaned every three weeks. There was less overall."

"Why was it being written at all, Avaric?"

"Because that's what guys are like. I can't control that."

"Wrong," she said quietly. "You're such a fucking liar. You have Ozma Towers in the palm of your hand. You're head boy."

"Can you control the actions of every girl in Crage Hall?" he asked angrily.

"No, but I can establish a standard of behaviour! For example," Galinda began, her voice getting louder as she continued, "I haven't allowed a place for students to write  _rape_  and  _death threats_  on a  _public wall!_ "

He threw his hands up. "They're men, Galinda! Men are fucking animals! If I didn't allow it, they'd write it somewhere else!"

"That's such bullshit." Galinda stepped up to him, glaring at him, forcing him to look at her. "They wrote about  _me_. Your girlfriend. They wrote about hurting me. About owning me. How could you allow that? You're one of the most possessive boyfriends I've ever had, and yet you let them write that about me-" She paused, fighting her temper. She lost. "What the  _fuck_ , Avaric!?"

He seemed to hesitate before speaking. "They never wrote your name…"

"... What?" Galinda replied, perplexed.

"I made a rule. They never wrote your name. Just 'Head Girl'. So it wasn't really about you, just… the idea of you. You shouldn't take them personally-"

"You're joking," Galinda said, half a question and a statement. He held her eye. He was serious. She stepped away from him, off the raised platform of the entryway. "You've got to be joking."

He reached for her. "Glin-"

"Don't touch me." He pulled back, working his jaw. She pressed her hand to her forehead, half turning away from him. "Fuck this. Fuck all of this. We're done."

"What?" he barked, rushing to stand in front of her. "You can't mean-"

"We're over. Finished."

He seemed torn between anger and panic. She left him, trudging her way through his garden to the gate, where Ama was parked. "The party on Monday, Galinda," he called.

She stopped.

It was the Diamond long weekend. A public holiday to represent the wealth of Gillikin. A day of decadence and extravagance to the young, rich Gillikins of Shiz. It was one of the most important parties of Autumn. Galinda had completely forgotten it being so busy and caught up in so much drama.

She turned around to look at him as he jogged toward her. He stopped a good distance away from her. "We can't do that yet," he said flatly. "Maybe later. We can talk about it. But not now."

"It's just a party," she said, as much to herself than it was to him.

"It's  _the_  party. If you don't show…" Avaric grimaced. "People will talk. Your parents might hear."

He was right, damn him. It wasn't just about Ozma Towers and Crage Hall - this was a party about the Gillikin clans. There were consequences to her not making an appearance. Consequences to her going dateless. She pressed her face into her hands.

"Did you really forget about it?" he asked, confused.

"I did."

"How?"

"I've been busy, Avaric!" she snapped. "I've been swamped, in fact! Something you've never seemed to acknowledge! I have more important things to think about, okay!?"

He held up his hands. "Alright, calm down." Galinda scowled at his condescending tone. "All we need to do is turn up, look hot, and act like we're all good. And after, we can discuss all this properly." He pursed his lips slightly. "Rationally."

Rationally. She could punch him. "There's nothing to discuss-"

"There is," he insisted. "You can't just drop me, Galinda."

She wondered why not. But for the sake of avoiding more yelling, she'd let him think he was right. "We'll go to the party. We'll play the couple. But after, we're  _done._ "

"... We'll see."

Galinda walked to the gate, ignoring Avaric watching her, ignoring the smug little smile she'd seen on his face just before she'd turned away from him, when he'd thought she wasn't looking anymore.

* * *

Slipping back into her role as Avaric's perfect girlfriend was surprisingly easy. They'd entered the party fashionably late, Avaric in a thousand-dollar suit and her in a dress he'd chosen for the party months ago. They'd been received with an uproar. Their families were among some of the most powerful clans still remaining, after all. They were loved wherever they went together. An impressive union of already impressive Gillikin legacies.

Galinda would have loved it a few weeks ago. She would have lived for their entrance, how it seemed to draw the attention of the whole raucous event for one glorious moment, before it inevitably carried on. She would have enjoyed politely declining the numerous offers of drinks, shots, bong hits, pills, tabs, lines of coke in the kitchen. As it was, she found it all an irritation.

One thing she could always appreciate was the fashion. The dresscode was a modern twist on old Gillikin noblewear. Modern noblewear was clan-colours, accessories of silver, copper and gold covered in jewels. Fine etchings and embroidery recreated primitive Gillikin art of constellations and native creatures, wolves and deer, oak trees.

The most distinctive element to modern noblewear by far was the metalwork worn by women. Rigid planes of metal encircled the neck and wrists, sometimes the ankles and waist, the shape of which seemed designed intentionally to cause discomfort. Fine chains linked the wrist and ankle pieces to the neck. They were not intended to limit movement - at least not anymore - and they would easily snap if tested. Nonetheless, they called back to archaic attitudes. Despite the complicated feelings they inspired in Galinda, she was still dazzled by the shine and polish of it all.

Avaric and Galinda had each gotten themselves glasses of wine once their entrance was done. They had quickly been accosted by Fivil Chuffrey and the Morrible siblings, madame Morrible's nieces. The social processes were the easiest part of the party. Despite her awful week and generally terrible mood, it all came naturally to Galinda.

"I hear you're Head Girl of Auntie's school," Morrible #1 said, exchanging smiles with her sister. "Jem tells me it's usually decided through popular vote, but it wasn't with you, was it? How  _did_  you get the position?"

"The Head Girl before me was through popular vote, yes. She was a perfectly nice young woman, but…" Galinda tilted her head. "... She didn't take her duties as Head Girl seriously enough. Or so I've heard. Madame Morrible must have recognized that sometimes these things can't just be a popularity contest. Sometimes these choices must be made smartly. And the masses are not always smart."

The sisters appraised her. It was political commentary as much as it was a defense of her position. " _So_  true. Auntie is terribly careful with these things."

"And so kind," Galinda remarked smoothly. The sisters laughed a bit stiffly. Even her own family knew Madame Morrible was anything but kind.

"I think you would have won the popular vote anyway," Avaric said, his arm curling about Galinda as he smiled down at her. "You were already a stand out."

An obvious lie, but one that neither the Morrible's or Fivil Chuffrey would be able to dispute, Galinda supposed. She had been among a group of equally popular girls. She had not been a stand out at all.

Not until she'd dated Avaric, of course. She peered up at him, wondering if he was sending her a message. "Yes…" She grinned winningly. "As were you. Avaric became Head Boy by popular vote - but he'd have gotten picked either way, of course. Right?"

Avaric's smile tightened slightly.

"So I've heard," Morrible #2 said, eyeing him appreciatively. Galinda could almost laugh; such a blatant attempt to make her jealous, and she didn't even want to be near him. Her indifference made it easy to dismiss the comment and play it off as confidence in their relationship.

Galinda finished her drink and handed her glass to Avaric. "Get me another, would you?"

"Sure."

"Actually, get me an Ozmopolitan."

"Of course." He kissed her quickly. She almost cracked. She covered it with a toss of her hair. The Morrible's watched Avaric go off obediently.

Meanwhile, Fivil Chuffrey saw his chance. He slipped in beside her. "Galinda, hey. We haven't seen each other in… years, have we?"

"We haven't," Galinda said with a warm and completely fake smile. She had no idea who he was. She knew his name, of course, but she didn't recall meeting him at any point. His family were rich but lacking in status; they were more about business than Gillikin heritage. Galinda had mostly interacted with Fivil's uncle, an impressive man far older than her that her parents had implied she might marry. That had been a very strained family trip to the Emerald City. "Enjoying EC?" She asked.

"Always," he replied smoothly. "It's the centre of Oz - not just geographically. You should come down, experience the city centre. I'd be happy to put you up."

"I should," Galinda said noncommittally, and his smile became lukewarm.

"You have things keeping you here, I understand." He glanced in the direction Avaric had gone.

"Not really. I'm just not so interested in travelling right now."

Fivil sighed to himself. "But Shiz parties are so  _dull_  compared to the Emerald City's. No orgy, no feast. Not even an animal sacrifice."

Or had he said Animal? Either way it was a reference to a sick and infamous event that'd happened a couple of years ago, where at a similar party in the heart of EC a Goat had been murdered. They'd used his blood to paint themselves with crude Vinkan tattoos and danced around a bonfire. The mention of it made Galinda laugh uncomfortably and shift away from him.

"Just a joke," Fivil assured. "Animal sacrifice is no longer in fashion. The fashion these days is evolving month by month, truth be told, but the other week I went to a tournie."

Galinda frowned. "A tournie? Like a tournament?"

"Yes! Tournaments are all the rage. Usually it's fashion or dancing - sometimes it's fighting. Because people are getting drunk there's not a lot of athletics going on. But this one tournie was all three." Fivil leaned closer to Galinda, gossiping excitedly. "Everyone had to dress up as some sort of Ozian - a winkie, an animal, a munchkin, whatever - and then get in teams, and then battle it out all over the party. Inside was a safe zone, but there were different arenas - like the pool, the hedge maze, the tennis courts…"

"How elaborate," Galinda remarked.

"It was," Fivil replied as if she'd complimented him. "The winkies went totally wild. Lit fire to a pool house." He started slightly. "Not actual vinks, of course - we were mostly Gillikins.  _Mostly_. No Animals, but there were munchkins, glikkuns. The occasional vink now I think about it, but they weren't dressed as winkies."

"I see."

"Most of those in attendance were from the Emerald City University's Commerce Economics class, you see. It's a heavily Gillikin university. EC is generally more colourful than Shiz, though, even in the city centre. Have you been to the EC city centre?"

"I have."

"You know that big building, with the gold 'c' at the top? Massive thing. That's my father's building, I'm hoping to inherit it one day along with his business…"

"Mm," Galinda intoned as he continued. She was so bored she found herself looking for Avaric. He was her only solid social link here; she knew almost everyone in attendance, but not enough to happily excuse herself from one to talk to another. It was his role to save her in situations like these.

She became irritated at herself for it. She didn't want to want anything from Avaric at the moment. But when it came to this setting, where her and Avaric had always been closer to a double act than a real couple, she couldn't quite help it. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised; it had always been little more than a performance at these events, so it was easy to slip into it and not become emotional. It had never held any emotion at all.

They'd always been a facade.

Galinda wished now that there were nothing behind it at all - she wished her and Avaric didn't know each other, and handled these things like a business transaction or roles in a play. But it was too late for that now.

Finally, Avaric returned with her drink, and with a young woman in tow. He handed over the Ozmopolitan and confidently interrupted Fivil to introduce the mystery woman to Galinda. "Babe… this is Madeleine Whittle. She's the niece of the vice principal at Ozma Towers."

"I've met your aunty," Galinda said with a genuine smile. "She's really nice."

"Is she? I haven't seen her in ages," Madeleine admitted, laughing slightly. "Galinda, right?"

"Yes, of the Arduenna's."

"Of course. Madeleine of the Whittle's of Maidenfair." She gave Galinda a funny little handshake and a bright smile. "Charmed. I  _love_  your instagram, by the way…"

And so they fell into conversation. Fivil had disappeared some time during their introduction. Galinda hadn't been paying all that much attention, distracted by Madeleine, who was striking, and surprisingly pleasant to talk to. It was the easiest conversation of the night - she even made Galinda laugh genuinely. Madeleine was an instagram makeup artist - Galinda honestly could have guessed just from how she looked - and they quickly got onto the topic of makeup releases.

"I'm  _so_  excited to try out the Starfall mascara by Tov, all my favourite makeup artists have previewed it and it looks… so good."

"I  _know_ , right? Then there's the mascara being released by Liore-"

"-  _Yes_ , I'm so keen!"

"But I'm honestly torn on Liore?" Galinda said. "Because there was that drama with him  _clearly_  stealing designs from Ajak-"

"Yes, that was messy," Madeleine added.

"Yeah! And I don't really want to support that, but I know a lot of the makeup artists I love are going to use it? So I'm not sure if I want both or to just get Starfall. Starfall is probably going to be just as good, Tov's makeup has been  _incredible_  this year, but…"

"Honestly?" Madeleine leaned a little toward her. "I'm going to buy both. Just borrow Liore's from me sometime."

Galinda smiled and blushed. "I couldn't, sharing exclusive makeup is… I can't, but thank you."

"It's so fine. I have, like, a mountain of this stuff, sharing a little mascara is nothing." Madeleine smiled and bumped her elbow against Galinda's. "Plus, gives me a reason to ask for your facebook."

Galinda laughed slightly. "You don't need a reason! I'll add you on instagram too…" They had both pulled out their phones and exchanged details.

Galinda only wondered over Avaric's location once he'd reappeared. "Ladies," he said gallantly, sitting between them and smiling happily. Galinda was suspicious of that smile. "What are we talking about?"

"Makeup."

"You must be getting along then," he said knowingly. "Ever since I met Madeleine I've wanted to introduce you. Knew you'd hit it off."

Galinda couldn't fault his judgement. "She is lovely," Galinda said more to Madeleine, who smiled back lopsidedly - almost smirking. Almost flirting.

"So are you." Madeleine stood elegantly, and held up her empty glass, wiggling it. "Time for a refill. I'll be right back."

Galinda watched her walk away. She was  _very_  attractive. Taller than Galinda, glamorous in a darker way than herself. She was silver and black and gun-metal pigalles where Galinda was gold and white and pink platforms - different takes on the same type of feminine. Though, in the colours of their clans, Galinda was in silver and Madeleine was in gold. It suited her still.

"She's hot, isn't she?" Galinda jumped and looked at Avaric.

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

He fussed with his cuffs and leaned over to murmur close to Galinda's ear. "She's interested in us. As a couple."

Galinda's face began to fall. She peered at Avaric. "... What?"

"You know…"

"You want to have a threesome," she said flatly.

"She wants to. And I do, obviously," he amended quickly. "I know you're upset right now… but it's diamonds week. We've got to put it on hold and make this memorable, right? And you'll get to fuck a hot girl. You love fucking hot girls."

Galinda didn't feel at all interested in being in a sexual situation with Avaric. A part of her was swaying - a part of her that had only been in a threesome once and wanted to experience it again. Madeleine  _did_  seem fun. Galinda reasoned that she could always simply leave if she didn't want to do it after all.

Even with that reasoning, she wasn't keen. But she could be made keen. "How about this. You have to answer one question to my satisfaction. If I'm not satisfied, I'm out. Deal?"

Avaric eyed her somewhat bemusedly. "Alright, deal. What's the question?"

"Why did you allow those things in the bathroom to be written about me?" Galinda asked. "And don't tell me they weren't about me. They were."

Avaric huffed irritatedly at first, but Galinda's cool patience and steady glare made his bravado waver. He folded his arms and shifted as he began to answer. "It's like we talked about. Weeks ago, in the car. There's a difference between people getting to look, and getting to touch. I already knew the guys were jealous that I'd landed you, but… when you became Head Girl, and I saw it in writing…"

Galinda frowned. "What, it like… gave you a rush?"

"Not-... well, kind of," Avaric admitted. "I didn't even have to brag about you. Just us being together seemed to drive them crazy. And it was satisfying." He smiled slightly as he went on; "To see all of these desperate messages talking about what they wanted but couldn't have. Things that I  _could_  have." He glanced at her. "You."

"It didn't bother you?" she asked searchingly. "At all?"

"No. I knew we were solid. I've never doubted the strength of our relationship," he said firmly, as if to reassure her. "It was just bullshit to me. And yeah, it went to my ego I guess. I'm sorry."

Galinda examined Avaric. He seemed hopeful. He seemed to think he'd placated Galinda.

He'd really done the opposite; he had exposed how little respect he had for Galinda, to not even think to lie about how he'd been offended on her behalf. He didn't care about the misogyny, the objectification, the humiliation, the violence within those messages. Perhaps he didn't even see them as such.

"Is that a satisfactory answer?" Galinda came back to herself, breaking from her thousand yard stare over his shoulder to look at him again.

She smiled stiffly. "Yes."

"So… threesome then?"

"Alright. You two go on ahead. I'm going to get some air first."

"Wait - now?" he asked, slightly taken aback.

"Sure. The earlier we start the longer we have, right? Bring up a bottle of champ or something."

"Alright," he said, excited and relieved. "We'll be in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Maybe text me when you're on your way up?"

"Sure," she said. "Don't wait up for me."

He seemed very satisfied with that. "I knew you'd come around." He stood up and began toward wherever Madeleine had gone. "Tonights going to be great! I promise!"

"I'm looking forward to it," Galinda called back. When she had officially lost track of him in the crowd of partygoers, she exited onto the west-facing balcony, which looked over the mansions' gardens. Various people were smoking and chatting on the balcony or the white gravel below. Galinda leaned over the edge of short marble wall, and stared out into the far green and blue shadows of the distant, unlit gardens.


	14. Pretty Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Pretty Girls by Against Me! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3GAII20vTo

Elphaba arrived at the little pho shop Boq had chosen for them at one in the afternoon sharp. It was a hole in the wall with a little bar and a single table outside. Boq was perched at the bar with a plate of rice paper rolls waiting for them.

Elphaba startled him as they sat down. "Fae!" He pressed his hand to his chest. "God. It's weird how quiet you are when you're so damn tall."

"I'm a ghost, Boq. I've been dead all along."

"Oh my god. I can't believe it, and yet… it explains so much."

"It explains how I feel right now." They pulled a menu open. "They have veggo pho?"

"Yeah, one."

"Great." They put the menu back.

"They have drinks too," he pointed out, amused. "The avocado drink is pretty nice."

Elphaba plucked one of the rolls from the plate in front of him. "Split one?"

"Sure."

They ordered their food and had it laid before them lightning fast; the place was usually packed and experienced turning tables. Elphaba peered at Boq's bowl - rare beef pho - and grimaced critically. They decided to leave it, though they expected better of him.

"How's your week been?"

"Shit," Elphaba replied flatly.

"Tell me about it."

"You sure you want to go right into my problems? We've barely started eating." Elphaba mostly said this out of guilt. They'd always come to him in times of distress. He was a perfect sounding board; sturdy, impartial and patient. Even as children Elphaba had drifted toward him as a fuck up craving his wholesome, unwavering stability.

Boq pretended to consider what they'd said. "You're right. You definitely asked me out to lunch to engage in forced small talk. Let's delay the inevitable as long as possible."

Elphaba knocked their elbow against his arm. Then, slightly embarrassed by their predictability, they told Boq about their dad and Sarima.

Boq's mouth was slightly agape once they'd finished. "God, that _was_ a week."

"It was," Elphaba said stiffly.

"Okay, I have so many questions-"

"Of course."

"- Sarima came out? Isn't she the first person to do that other than you?"

"Well, there was Fiyero."

"Getting caught is different."

"I thought he followed it up by coming out?"

"He wanted to, but his parents never brought it up again," Boq said. "That's when all the 'destined for Sarima' talk started. Speaking of that - you and Sarima getting the matching?" Boq widened his eyes at them. "What in Oz is that?"

"I don't know," Elphaba sighed. "Says a lot about their faith, doesn't it. They're destined for each other! Until they find someone more convenient! Now we're destined for each other! God changed his mind. How helpful."

"Well, that part isn't shocking."

"Indeed not. The most shocking part wasn't even the marriage proposal." Elphaba leaned slightly toward Boq, as if to scare him. "Sarima wanted to do it."

"... No. She didn't say that to you...?"

"She did. Actually happened." Boq put his face in his hands. "I thought I was having a hallucination or something, but she wanted to do it."

"Oh, god, that poor girl…" Boq muttered. "That's so desperate."

"Yeah. Her parents were livid about her coming out - no surprises there, they've always been pretty awful."

"But… I didn't think she wanted the blessing at all. I mean, she's a Kumbrician."

"She's a Kumbric witch, not a Kumbrician."

Boq dropped his hands to frown at them. "... Is there a difference?"

"Yes. Kumbricians were actual witches empowered by 'Kumbricia', or at least claimed to be. Kumbric witches sit in circles and read poetry."

He laughed shortly. "Harsh."

"It's true. They barely have a belief system. Which is good, they aren't another cult actually capable of harming people. But it's set dressing." After a moment of judgemental anger Elphaba added, "At least that's the impression I get."

"Have you actually attended any of their events?"

"One. Sort of. But I hear about it all the time from Crope and Tibbett." They paused. "And Sarima…"

Boq nibbled at the inside of his lip. "...Are you guys still friends?"

"I don't know," Elphaba exhaled. "I'm going to leave that up to her."

"If you're open to your friendship continuing, it would be better to let her know. Reassure her a bit. She's probably really insecure right now."

Elphaba rubbed the back of their neck. "Ah. True." They glanced at him, studied him briefly. "... Boq."

"Mm?"

"Do you really want to get the matching?"

He cut his eyes at them. "... I don't know. Maybe."

"Why would you, if you did?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Because it's easy? I'm not in the church, but… it'd make my parents happy. I would be clear with the person before we made it official, find someone like me. Either someone ace or poly. We can have all the benefits of company, a house together… maybe adopt kids."

"You want kids?"

"Yeah," he said shyly. "Yeah, I really do." Elphaba couldn't help making a face. They didn't understand any twenty-something that wanted children; it was viscerally unrelatable. "I just want to have a family," Boq carried on, "and… the matching sort of hands you that person, you know? Meeting people is so hard."

"I suppose so." Elphaba grimaced. "Still fucked."

"I guess."

"I'm not sure it'd really be any easier going through the matching system. Most second gen aren't sticking with the church, right?"

"But I'd have the whole of Oz to go from, not just Shiz," Boq reminded them.

"I guess. But the people that stick with the church are likely to have the church's ideals. Like a big focus on procreation, for example?" Elphaba said a bit snidely.

"You and me both know there's a ton of ace people in the church."

Elphaba grunted. "More like everyone has a ton of issues with their sexuality. Everyone is ace, or hypersexual, or afraid of sex, or idolize it to a creepy degree..."

"Well yeah, but if that results in being ace it's still just being ace. Ace is as much a description as it is an identity, like any sexual orientation."

"Yeah, I know."

"Either way," Boq began, laying a hand on their shoulder, "as someone who might want the matching, I know you're never going to want it. And that's fine. You and Sarima have different desires…" Boq smiled, and patted their back. "Simple as that."

"Yeah," Elphaba murmured. "Yes, you're right."

"Of course I am."

Elphaba hesitated saying their next thought. "Anyway… Dad hasn't talked to me since then."

They felt Boq peer at them as they fiddled with the remains of their pho. "Well… it sounds like it went pretty badly."

"I _almost_ punched him out, but I didn't, so there's that?" Elphaba said with a pinched frown. Boq laughed slightly. "I was very tempted, Boq. It was a valiant display of self control."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thank you."

Boq insisted on paying the bill, but Elphaba had looked at the receipt and would transfer their share either way. After they'd left they wandered through Shiz's constantly-bustling streets to Shiz Central station, where Elphaba's bus stop was. Their bus was in about fifteen minutes.

"Want company?" Boq asked. "There's a train coming in about… five minutes, but I can get the next one."

"Nah, it's fine." Elphaba said. "You're seeing that cute drummer girl you were talking about, right?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's a party, not like… a date."

"Yeah, but you want to get all nice and pretty." Elphaba flashed a grin.

He blushed. "True." He put his hands over his cheeks and sighed. "It's just… she's so cute."

"Go get pretty," they said, kicking their leg vaguely in his direction.

"Aright. Have a nice session. Kiss Crope."

"For you?"

"No. Just kiss Crope."

They gave him the finger as he walked off with a goading grin. They did not want to kiss Crope. Just like they did not want to have sex with Galinda Arduenna. They put their earphones in and blasted Nine Inch Nails, and put their face in their hands.

So, maybe they wanted to kiss Crope… and they definitely wanted to have sex with Galinda Arduenna. Both of these wants had become too strong to ignore, much to Elphaba's displeasure.

It's not like they could do anything with them. Elphaba could probably just ask Crope to kiss them, but they never would. They were overcome with anxiety at the mere thought. More importantly, they knew - somehow - that it wasn't really what they wanted. Not a kiss in those circumstances. Not when their relationship was what it was.

If Galinda ever did, somehow, want to have sex with them…

That would never happen. Moreover, it would certainly never happen as a result of Galinda's feelings for them. So they were left with persistent, useless wants that they were not able or unwilling to fulfill. It was very frustrating. It soured their mood as they rode the bus up to Tibbett's farm. By the time they'd arrived, they'd worked themself up to nausea.

Only Galinda was waiting there. She was sitting on a stool in a column of sunlight streaming through a high window. She seemed to very nearly glow. Elphaba was a bit stunned by her, and only belatedly noticed how unusually somber she was.

Her head snapped up when she realised Elphaba was there, and she jumped to her feet. "Fae! Hey." She beamed. No trace of sadness. Had Elphaba imagined it, or was Galinda that convincing an actor? "Crope and Tibbett aren't coming. No idea why."

"Probably getting up to mischief," Elphaba remarked. They were more and less worried. No uncomfortable Crope feelings to deal with. More intense contact with Galinda. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No. It's nice here, anyway." She peered about the big structure, smiling to herself. "There's something relaxing about farms. My parents have a couple of farms - my clan has a ton, of course - but the properties my parents own are mostly orchards and vineyards. They aren't so… cozy."

Elphaba hummed in feigned interest. "I assume they're designed more for luxury tourism rather than production."

Galinda arched a brow. "Most of them are for production, actually. Arduenna wine is some of the finest in Gillikin, as is the cider from our orchards." Galinda paused. "Do you know your wine?"

"I'm not much of a drinker in general."

"Oh, why? Just not interested, or…"

"I drink socially, but I don't like getting drunk."

"... Why not?"

Elphaba grimaced slightly. "I just don't find it particularly appealing." That was partly true, but what really stopped them was the thought of their inhibitions being loosened.

Galinda hummed. "That's fair I guess. Parties mustn't be that fun sober, though."

"You have no idea," Elphaba drawled, tiring of the topic. "So. What are we doing today?"

Galinda pressed her hand to her head for a long moment. "I think… we'd done the elbow ties? So we're doing leg ties, and you wanted to try a hogtie as well."

"Sounds about right."

"Shall we get right into leg ties, then?"

Elphaba would rather delay that as much as possible. Of all the weeks for the leg ties to occur, it had to be when they were alone. It was the part of the ties Elphaba was most anxious about. "How about we do all the other ties first? So it'll be like it is when the show happens. I think that'll help me get used to it."

"Alright." Galinda rummaged through her bag of ropes as Elphaba exhaled quietly in relief. Perhaps it wasn't helpful to put off the inevitable, but they did genuinely feel doing all the previous ties step by step was less jarring than doing whole new ties out of the blue.

As Galinda began winding the rope about them, they noticed she was less talkative than usual. It was strange enough that Elphaba felt a need to compensate. "We're having a show this Saturday."

"Really? What time?"

"Eight, at the Moonbase bar. I'm doing it half dressed up. Just to make it interesting. Crope and Tibbett have been practicing ropes since we started the sessions, so they'll be tying my hands together."

"With the prayer tie?"

"Just a larks head around the wrists."

"Good, keep it simple." Elphaba felt her stop, and curse gently under her breath. They felt the sharp tugging of her undoing knots. "Well, I'm excited to see how they do," she said eventually.

Elphaba peered a bit over their shoulder. "You're going to come?"

"Why not?"

"You won't like the music," Elphaba said. "Don't feel obligated."

"I'm not feeling obligated. I mean, I'd like to see what I'm getting myself into since I'll definitely be seeing the show this is for, right?"

"I suppose that's true." Elphaba was privately a bit excited for Galinda to see them perform. They squashed that excitement immediately; it didn't matter, it was just another show. They were relieved from their thoughts by Galinda swearing again, louder this time, undoing more of her work. "... Doing alright?"

"I can't seem to focus today," Galinda said distractedly. "I keep messing up the ties."

"There's no rush."

"I know."

They fell quiet as Galinda focused more intensely on the ties. It seemed to be going well for a while and then Galinda made a frustrated noise, undoing it all again. She restarted and finished the harness. She came around to Elphaba's front, and they proffered their hands for her. She glanced up at Elphaba and smiled, and this smile wasn't so convincing. It was half hearted and wrong. Elphaba watched her carefully as she wove the doubled rope between their fingers.

  


.....................................

.............................

.................

.....

Galinda told them everything. She told them about Avaric. She told them about his house, about being locked in the car, about the bathrooms, about the party. It came from her like flood waters from a dam; it was messy and disjointed and she was half-crying through most of it, but Elphaba could tell it was a relief. She had remained against Elphaba's back, clinging to their waist. Elphaba hated the effect it had on their body, but they were reluctant to mention it until she'd calmed down. She did, eventually.

Elphaba had suspected Avaric was abusive from the moment they'd met him. At the time they had berated themself lightly, knowing it was too serious an accusation to make without proper knowledge of their relationship. Everything Galinda had said about him since then, and certainly everything she said now, contained more than enough red flags for Elphaba to worry for Galinda's safety.

"Has he contacted you since you broke up?" they asked her once they were untied. The two of them were sitting on the mats in the middle of the shed, sharing a pot of mineral tea they'd made in Tibbett's parent's house.

"Yes," Galinda said quietly. "He keeps sending these pathetic messages about how he needs me and about-" she huffed wetly, frustratedly, "masturbating to my pictures and stuff. Like that's romantic. I think he's trying to guilt me. I don't know. I don't know anymore. I think it's working."

"You feel guilty? After how he treated you?" Galinda shrugged, demurring. Elphaba regretted the question. "...That's understandable. He's been manipulating you… you know that, right?"

"I didn't think he was smart enough," Galinda said miserably.

"It's not about intelligence. It's probably not even conscious, at least not as something manipulative. It's behaviour he's learnt- behaviour he knows gets him what he wants."

Galinda didn't seem to really be listening to them. She was chewing on her lip, her eyes brimming with tears as she thought about something very hard. She finally sighed, watery and pathetic, and looked up at Elphaba. "Elphie… I ruined everything." Her face crumpled, and she hid behind her hands. "Madam Morrible will be disappointed. My parents will be disappointed. And the  _gossip._  It's going to be hell, Elphie. It's going to be absolutely awful."

"You broke up - what, two days ago? How fast do these things spread?"

"By next week, at least, everyone will know. Maddy was already a loose end. People saw me walk out the party without him. It's probably already spreading."

"And what are the consequences?"

Galinda sighed nasally, digging around in her purse for something. She extracted a travel pack of tissues. "Well, my parents will find out. It'll weaken my influence within Crage Hall and with the other Old Gillikins."

"Old Gillikins?"

"Clan Gillikins," Galinda said quickly. "Those of us descended from clans. Avaric and I were perhaps the most powerful couple in Shiz. But, separated... his family are more powerful than my own. I lost a very good connection for my family." Galinda made another miserable whimper, putting her face in her hands. "My parents are going to  _kill_  me…"

Elphaba grimaced. "Your social life sounds exhausting."

Galinda peered up at them as she dabbed her eyes. "It's terrible, to be honest." She exhaled shakily, glancing away. "But… I was raised for it. And I'm good at it. And it's fun, sometimes."

"Very compelling argument."

Galinda rolled her eyes at them. "Leave me be." She blew her nose delicately and sighed again. "I can't help but think I've made a mistake…"

"Breaking up with him?"

Galinda nodded, her eyes on her hands, folded in her lap. "I know he messed up. I know. We'd have to seriously work on our relationship. But I was... harsh. Maybe I'm just being too sensitive with all of this. Maybe this is - maybe this is normal! I don't know. Maybe even if it's not normal it's worth it so our lives aren't entirely ruined. You know?"

Elphaba hesitated briefly, privately incredulous. They tried not to express it; they understood why Galinda was thinking that way. "... No." Galinda looked up, perhaps reacting to their blunt tone. "Galinda, he didn't just mess up. He  _is_ an  _awful boyfriend_. It's ongoing. You weren't being oversensitive, you had a very understandable reaction to his behavior. You weren't that harsh, and even if you were he deserves it." Elphaba, out of some instinct for comfort they didn't know they had, placed their hands on her arms. "And that behaviour is not normal. It's  _unhealthy_. You made the right choice, Galinda. No matter the social ramifications."

Galinda gazed at them for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. The attention embarrassed Elphaba slightly, but they stared back and kept their hands where they were, determined to reassure Galinda.

Finally, she smiled. It was small and vulnerable. "Yeah. True. You're right." She laughed shortly, rubbed at her face. "... Thanks, Elphie," she said quietly.

They leaned back, massively relieved that had worked. "No problem." Their hands had slid, as they leaned back, to rest on Galinda's wrists. They seemed to both glance down and notice it together. Galinda, very casually, turned her hands and caught their fingers in hers, pressing them gently. Elphaba glanced up at her unsurely, but Galinda didn't notice. She was peering off thoughtfully. After a long moment of silence, she looked back at Elphaba. "You know what I just realised?"

"What?"

"I don't know what a healthy relationship is meant to look like. All my boyfriends have kind of been like Avaric. Not, like - not as submissive in bed. But like… self centred, and asking me to do a lot for them. Guilting me, really. And being super possessive in that bragging kind of way. Lots of things Avaric did, I guess. I just thought that was normal, but maybe it's not."

"I don't have any personal experience on the matter, but… I would say no, it's not."

"But they all did that," Galinda intoned.

Elphaba felt a gentle ache pull at their chest. They squeezed Galinda's hands. "I'm sorry to hear that. But that's the reality of heteronormative relationships. Abuse is really quite normal."

"Heteronormative," she said with a rueful smile. "You use so many terms I don't know..."

"It means -"

"I can guess," Galinda said dismissively.

"I'm sure you can guess some of it, but it is an academic term worth researching." Galinda didn't really respond, beyond perhaps looking irritated. "... In your own time, of course."

"Mm." Galinda sighed heavily, sniffled, wiped her eyes carefully with the hand not holding Elphaba's. She peered up at Elphaba with a sheepish smile. "... Thank you. For letting me cry. For listening to me. You're very patient."

Elphaba cleared their throat. "Yes, well… that's fine. I'm sorry you're going through this." Elphaba hesitated for a beat. Then, they chickened out.

Elphaba knew the best thing they could do for someone in Galinda's position was offer support. Someone to talk to, to come to for help. As important as Elphaba knew that was, they felt they simply weren't the right person. They were too affected by Galinda. Too attracted, too caught up in her, too bias, too -

 

 

 

 

Fuck.

* * *

"Hey, Crope."

"Hey Elphie!" Her voice crackled slightly over the phone; the signal in Elphaba's area wasn't the best, a small but constant irritation. "What's up? Did something happen?"

"No. Sort of."

"Okay. You've never called me before, you're making me nervous."

"Yeah. I guess I just felt it was appropriate." They paused. "I need to ask you for a favour. It's about Galinda."

"Yeah, sure."

"She broke up with Avaric."

They heard a quiet noise from the other end of the line. Perhaps she told Tibbett. "That's great! … Right?"

"It is, I think. But she's... not okay. She told me all this stuff about him - it's fucked, Crope. He was really abusive. Like, threatening levels."

"Shit… I'm sorry we didn't come for the session today-"

"It's fine. But I wanted to ask if you'd reach out to her. Offer her some support. If you can - I understand the emotional labour might be too much -"

"No, it's fine. Of course."

"Thanks," Elphaba sighed.

The other end of the line was pointedly silent for a moment. "Um… am I doing this instead of you?"

Elphaba grimaced to themself as they hesitated. "...Yes."

"Okay. No guilt, but why exactly? You were as concerned as I was about Avaric."

"I was. I am. Maybe too concerned."

"... Okay." Crope sounded puzzled. "How is being more concerned bad?"

"I don't know," Elphaba said quietly. "I'm just worried."

"About what?"

What were they worried about? They had trouble formulating an answer. They were worried about distance. They were worried about caring so much. They were worried about taking advantage of her distress. They were worried about encouraging any kind of connection between the two of them.

"Just worried," Elphaba said frustratedly. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Okay… I'm happy to do that anyway."

"Thank you, Crope."

"No problem. I think… well, I think Galinda would really appreciate your support, you know. She respects you. No pressure, but if you change your mind..."

Elphaba hummed, rubbed the back of their neck. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind, Crope. I gotta go."

"Of course."

"I'll see you for practice tomorrow."

"Yeah. I love you, Elphie."

Elphaba laughed a little stiffly. "... Me too." They cleared their throat. "Bye."

"Bye!"

They let their hand fall to their side. They stared blankly at the wall for too long. The moment they were alone with their thoughts again, they were overwhelmed. Too many thoughts. Mostly about her.

They decided to ignore it and play factario.


	15. Cliffs Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Sorry for the delay with this chapter .. hope you enjoy :') 
> 
> Chapter song is Cliffs Edge by Hayley Kiyoko: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZfCUM1uyvw

Galinda leant on the wall immediately beside the door to the Moonbase Bar. People came in and out, lingered around and across the street smoking. A pair of Animals dressed in studded leather emerged, towering over Galinda - she glanced away and back at them quickly, and watched them as they went down the street.

She'd finally seen a Shame Machine show. Elphaba had performed with their wrists tied, dressed in a gimp mask and an outfit that was mostly mesh. She supposed she now knew a little better what to expect of the big show they were working toward during their tying sessions.

The bar really wasn't her element. It'd been packed. She'd been standing closer than she would've liked to a lot of people she would rather not interact with at all. Not out of superiority or disgust, but a sort of social anxiety. She didn't know how to be with these people. She knew that her own perspective of the world was different enough that she couldn't just wing it on her own. Milla had told her she'd be here, but Galinda hadn't managed to find her before the show had started and they'd darkened the room.

The music also wasn't Galinda's element. It was all noise to her. Noise that had a certain energy and power to it, the way noise can only have when played and screamed live, but still noise. It hadn't impressed her.

All that considered, it'd still been a great show that Galinda was glad she got to see. She didn't regret coming and she'd probably come to another show. She'd come just to see Fae like that again.

Galinda had wondered about the two names - Elphaba and Fae - but she thought she understood now. There was something fundamentally different about the person that'd been on stage. They were like a character based on Elphaba; they were intimidating, and biting, and intriguing, and  _between_ , like Elphaba was. They were all of those things turned up to max settings. Fae was assertive, and angry, and sexy, and Galinda was aroused by them and afraid of being aroused by them. She figured that was the point. There was something so confronting about them. Not just their stage presence, but their body actually on display, them in the act of performing, of creating something - it was all very visceral.

Galinda now understood their fame, too. She understood Milla's uncharacteristic nervousness around Elphaba. She understood the messages she saw written on the walls of the bathroom she'd ducked into. They'd startled her at first, forcing her to remember another bathroom - but they were amusing. Some were stranger than others. Fae's a beast. Fae's hot. I love you Fae. Kill me Fae. Will suck Fae's dick. That one had an argument about whether they actually had a dick beneath it.

Needless to say, she'd enjoyed it. She was waiting for the band to emerge so she could ambush and lavish them - Elphaba - in praise. She'd never seen anything like it in her life and she needed to talk about it.

Milla came out first. She walked right past Galinda half out onto the road, looking at her phone. Galinda called her name. She spun around, and flashed a smile, tucking her phone into her pocket and coming back over.

"Glin! I wondered where you were. You didn't miss the show, did you?"

"No, I saw the whole thing. I was looking for you."

"Sorry. Have a good time?"

Galinda felt herself grinning. "Yeah, it was incredible!"

Milla laughed. "Shit, I thought you'd hate it. Don't imagine you're a hardpunk fan."

"Well, I disliked the music," Galinda admitted. "But the performance itself made it worth it."

"I get you. You'd be surprised how many Shame Machine fans only got into hardcore because of them." Milla had her phone back out; presumably texting someone. "Especially since half their music is like, folk punk and shit. Only Fae and Crope are into that dark doom and death punk."

Galinda was a little glad to hear that - she couldn't see her taste adjusting that drastically. "Yeah, Elphaba has a really nice singing voice don't they? I remember from-"

"- The factory party, right!" Milla looked back down to her phone. "Sorry. Messaging my partner. She's had kind of a rough day."

"Wants you to come home and comfort her?" Galinda asked. She knew nothing about Milla's partner. Milla seemed to keep that part of her life quite private.

"Uh, kind of the opposite. She's going out to get totally fucked with work mates." Milla glanced up at Galinda with a smirk. "She clubs for stress relief. Just telling me where she's gonna be and all that."

"Sounds like Shenshen."

Milla snorted. "Sure. Dee's like Shenshen if Shenshen weren't so fucking self-centred."

Galinda raised her brows. "Bitching about people behind their backs? Very out of character."

"It's not behind their backs if I'd happily say it to their face."

Galinda considered that. "... Perhaps not in spirit, but you're  _not_  saying it to her face. You're talking about her to me. Badly. That's talking behind someone's back."

Milla eyed her. "... Yeah, I guess."

"Everyone does it."

"Not everyone."

"I've never met someone that didn't."

Milla made a dissatisfied noise and focused on her phone. Galinda leaned back against the wall, staring across the street at a little group of men smoking and secretly drinking beer. The show was all ages and alcohol free. Another, younger man came out of the bar and told them to put them away or move down the street to drink. Galinda sighed. "Do you think Shame Machine will come out this door?"

"There's a door leading out of the equipment room."

"Oh."

"Man, it's too cold for this time of year," Milla grumbled as Galinda looked at the time. Eleven fifteen. She was tempted to call Ama.

Suddenly, the smell of sweat and weed washed over Galinda as a warm arm was draped and curled loosely around her shoulders. "You came! Elphie said you might!" Crope, she identified, gasped beside her ear. "Milla too! Guys, you  _need_  to join us tonight."

"Hello, Crope," Galinda said amusedly. "What would we be joining you for?"

"After party?" Milla asked.

"Of a sort," Crope drawled a little ominously. "We have adventures planned. Horror stories to bring to life. Urban legends in the making. We're going down to Pebblebury Lake to summon the dead."

Galinda was lost, but Milla seemed intrigued. "Is this another moonlight seance?"

"The coven won't be there. Just the band. And you two, if you like. Elphie showered, so they don't have an excuse not to go for a dip with us."

Galinda made a noise. "There'll be dipping!"

" _Skinny_ dipping, if we're lucky."

"I'm so in," Milla said excitedly.

Galinda turned to look at Crope properly. She was red eyed and smiling lazily. "I'm really invited?" she asked. It's not like they were mates.

Crope laughed and squeezed her. "Oh, sweetie! You're a friend of the family now. Of course you are."

Galinda blushed and smiled, and agreed to go.

Crope lead them around the corner of the building to the backstage exit, where Shame Machine's van was sitting in neutral, the back doors open. Crope gestured toward the doors with a little curtsy. "Your transport for the evening."

"Why thank you," Galinda replied elegantly. Crope winked and offered her a hand to help Galinda step up into the van. She did the same for Milla, who pointedly ignored it.

Fiyero and Tibbett were already seated in the back, the band's gear arranged around their legs. Galinda slid in next to Fiyero, exchanged a smile with Tibbett. "Hey."

"Hey," Tibbett said warmly, before she was pulled into an enthusiastic hug by Milla.

"Sup," Fiyero said with a grin. He was also obviously stoned. "Enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, it was great."

"Sweet. I think we're going to the lake."

"That's what Crope said." Galinda noticed Elphaba in the front passenger seat, fiddling with something in their hands. She half stood up and stepped between the equipment to lean into the front of the car. Boq was beside them in the driver's seat. "Hey Elphie."

They glanced at Galinda quickly. Barely. "Oh, hey. You were at the show tonight?"

"Yeah. You were  _amazing._  Thank you for inviting me."

They cleared their throat. "Thanks for coming." They looked at her again, this time more lingeringly. She noticed their elaborate eyeliner for the first time. "You're joining us tonight?"

"Yeah. Crope came and found me."

"Ah. Well, get ready for some truly awful van singing. These little road trips get rowdy."

"That's not particularly surprising to hear."

Elphaba smirked in response.

"You say it's awful," Boq began, Galinda belatedly remembering to acknowledge him, "but you almost sing the loudest."

"How dare you. Crope and Tibbett are much more enthusiastic."

"That's a given, Elphie. You still love it."

They scoffed. Galinda grinned a bit slyly. "Also not particularly surprising."

"Getting it from all sides, am I?" they muttered.

"You're fine."

Crope climbed into the back and slapped the roof of the van. "Alright, ladies! Let's ride."

Galinda found herself sandwiched between Fiyero's big, soft shoulders and Crope, still cuddly and thoroughly stoned. Fiyero sighed deeply. "Crope."

"Mm?"

"I kind of want to do a bit of coke, but I think Damo wanted me to go by tonight and he's weird about that stuff, and it's making me sad."

Crope leaned forward to peer at him past Galinda. "Would you feel weird being dishonest about it?"

"Yeah. Kinda."

"Don't do coke then. Plus, I don't think anyone else will be doing it with you."

"You won't?"

"Not tonight," Crope said, slumping back against the van. "Tonight is a slow night. No sense going too fast."

Fiyero looked a little put out. Galinda cleared her throat quietly. "Is Damo your boyfriend?"

"He's one of my partners."

"Oh, you're poly…?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding a little surprised in a pleased way. "Are you? Most people think I'm talking about business partners. Like I have a real job."

"You don't have a real job," Crope cut in. "Look at you. You're shirtless eighty percent of your life. You don't have a real job."

"I know, right?"

Galinda laughed slightly. "Well, Milla's poly, so I've been... exposed."

"Exposed. I love that."

"Educated. You know what I mean."

"You know, our rope sessions have been like a cultural exchange," Crope mused. "You get educated about queer life. We get educated about bondage and being rich. Beautiful, really."

"I have learnt an awful lot since meeting you all," Galinda said earnestly. Crope's smile became soft, a bit embarrassed. "By the way, have you been learning ropes? I know you two were interested."

"We have," Crope said unsurely. "It's been slow, but… we've really got to thank you for the encouragement. We're not vanilla people by any means, but I was a bit jumpy about it I guess. Your thoroughness was reassuring."

"Jumpy? With tying specifically, or…?"

"Being restrained. Bad experiences. It's a lot. My old line of work isn't always great with that stuff." It must've showed that Galinda was confused. "I was a sex worker," Crope explained. "I mean, I still am. But I used to work with clients through this guy, and it really wasn't a good system."

"He was an asshole," Tibbett said from across the van.

"Yeah." They shared a smile, and then Crope took a breath, and remembered what she was talking about. "Anyway. Yeah. Some stuff happened. But I'm working through it. I manage all my own work now. I'm mostly just filming myself."

"Wow." Galinda felt herself become nervous. "I've never known a prostitute before, I can't say I know how to discuss the issue…"

Crope laughed shortly. "It's fine. I prefer 'sex worker', most people do. It's just a job like any other. Can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. Can be a fulfilling experience."

"I see."

"Anyway, being tied up by Tibbett has been nice."

"And tying Tibbett has been nice."

"Yes my love, tying you has been nice too."

Galinda couldn't help smiling at their interaction. They really were very cute. "I'm glad you two are getting something out the tying sessions then," Galinda said. "I thought you might've been bored since most of it is just me tying up Elphie."

"No, it's fun. How long do you think the sessions will continue?"

"Not long. Four or five more."

"That's not a lot."

Galinda glanced at Elphaba's profile, obscured by strange moving shadows. They were fiddling with the car speakers. "No, it's not."

The drive to Pebblebury Lake lasted about an hour. They stopped at a burger place half way there and jammed out the entire time. The band got particularly into some rock ballad about getting naked at two A.M. and declared it their theme song for the night. Galinda supposed they would indeed be skinny dipping.

She didn't mind. She was excited. She finally got to show off in front of them. Galinda wasn't an activist, or an artist, or a graduate in queer studies. But she had a good body, and she had confidence. These were things that could impress  _everyone_.

She couldn't deny she was also pretty curious to see what Elphaba would do. Somehow she doubted they'd be getting naked, or even undressed. They were such a private person. But a girl could dream.

The van stopped in a makeshift parking lot beside a public bathroom and a picnic ground. Down a short hill through the trees, Pebblebury Lake glowed under moonlight. Milla and the band descended a set of half-log stairs, whooping and laughing at conversation Galinda couldn't keep up with. She followed, her heart beating from excitement or nerves, or both.

"Whoa." Galinda belatedly managed to look away from Elphaba and Fiyero long enough to acknowledge Milla, who was watching them too. "I haven't seen Elphaba show that much skin since their grimefuck performance last year," she said, almost more to herself.

Galinda saw Crope sat by the edge of the water, watching her friends frolic about. She was smiling contentedly. Galinda went over to her, knelt beside her on the half-submerged ground. "Enjoying the entertainment?"

"I am," she replied lazily. "I convinced Elphie to actually strip this time. I mean, not as much as some…" Crope eyed Fiyero. He was the only person completely naked, other than Milla and Crope herself.

"How?"

"Not sure. Maybe it's the post-show adrenaline. When Fae's on stage, they're… shameless. It's incredible to watch. I think that shamelessness carries over for at least a good two hours after. But this is unusual." Crope shrugged. "Perhaps they're growing out of it."

"They were shameless," Galinda agreed thoughtfully. "It was hot."

Crope peered at her with a curious smile. "Hot?"

"Yeah. I mean, look at them," Galinda said, gesturing at Elphaba, half naked and dripping in the moonlight. "But seeing them that… confident, I guess? It was another level. Really hot."

Crope looked thoughtfully out over the water. "They are. They don't see it at all, of course."

"Bizarre," Galinda mused.

"They're looking through a different lens than we are."

"Their own insecurity."

Crope hummed. "That too. Nothing Elphaba believes lacks evidence to back it up, though. Their lens isn't really their own distortion. They're looking through the lens of white, heterosexual, cisgendered, traditional." Crope looked at her. "In that lens, you're perfect. Elphaba, in contrast, is not. They're not even pretty in that lens."

Galinda glanced at Elphaba unsurely. "... Really? Look at their body, though."

"Their body is weird. They have wide hips, a dick and breasts. And they're green."

Galinda flinched. It felt like a slap to have mentioned their skin. She felt there was some unsaid agreement to not acknowledge it, and Crope had broken it.

"Did Avaric think they were hot?" Crope asked, watching her. It felt like a challenge.

Galinda grimaced. "... He thought they were disgusting."

"That's all the evidence Elphaba needs." Crope smiled at her. "You're looking through a far queerer lens. A better lens, obviously."

Queer. Not a word she'd ever associated with herself.

"I'm going to go in," Crope said. She tilted her head, smiled invitingly. "Join us?"

Milla was already out in the water, talking with Tibbett, their arms about each other. Fiyero, Elphaba and Boq were having some kind of splashing competition. "Sure."

As Crope waded over to Tibbett and Milla, Galinda stripped off the rest of her clothes. She shivered when she was finally naked, but basked briefly in the freedom of it, breathing in deep. She looked out the water.

She made eye contact with… the side of Elphaba's face. Elphaba wasn't looking at her. Elphaba was looking at nothing; they were looking away very intentionally. The rest of Shame Machine and Milla at least glanced at her. Elphaba did not.

Galinda wasn't sure why that hurt so much.

She swam out to join them. Crope cried out happily. "Yes! For once the majority are actually naked! We've finally won! Skinny dipping is restored!"

"Shush," Tibbett said, clapping her hand over Crope's mouth and pulling her back against her. Crope turned her head to kiss Tibbett's cheek and grinned. "The spirit of  _our_  skinny dipping is not nakedness, but confidence," Tibbett announced. "Real confidence. Fake confidence. Whatever works to help you embrace yourself. If you can't strip here, where else can you do it?"

"Alone," Elphaba proposed.

"That defeats the whole point."

"And I can't help but notice you've actually joined our ranks this time," Fiyero teased.

"I'm not naked."

"You're nakeder than you've been before."

Elphaba drifted a bit apart from the group, their shoulders and chest floating on the surface but their hips just hidden beneath the black water. "Swimming with your clothes on is uncomfortable. Especially jeans."

"Fair. Make the most of immunity. Is that  _really_  why though?"

"Sure it is."

"I have my doubts."

"Mmhmm."

Fiyero looked a bit annoyed at their laconic answers and gave up, diving beneath the water. Crope and Tibbett were making out. Boq was floating on his back chatting idly with Milla, then yelping as Fiyero came out of the water beneath him to lift him onto his shoulders.

Galinda cruised over casually to Elphaba. "Hey."

Elphaba glanced at her and cleared their throat, then righted themself in the water. "Hey."

They floated in silence for a few moments. "I kind of wanted to ask something," Galinda started, not managing to disguise her nervousness.

"Ominous."

"On the form you filled out for me ages ago, you mentioned a water allergy…" Galinda trailed off. Elphaba looked reluctant to take up the subject. "So… how does that work?"

They grimaced. "This is kind of a lot. The short version is it's bad, please don't put water on me."

"Noted, but I want the long version."

"Alright," they sighed. "I have an allergy to water. It burns me, usually. There are various medications that can neutralise this allergy, with varying levels of effectiveness." Galinda stayed expectantly silent. They looked very exasperated, though Galinda considered it too dark to tell. "The cheapest medication is a pill that turns my reaction into a rash. The also cheap but not as cheap one is a lather, sort of a body wash. Gives me a solid… I don't know, fifteen hours of freedom depending on how thorough I am."

"Huh."

"There are more expensive ones, like an oil that'd make me… I guess permanently immune, if I used it consistently enough, but I'd be very oily all the time. There's also a moisturizer, but that does about the same as the pill does. As it is I just shower infrequently and try to avoid water."

"Is this a common allergy? I've never heard of anything like it."

Elphaba was half floating again, pulling their hand in an out of the water, watching the surface break over their skin. "No. Never heard of anyone else with it. All my medication is made by a local pharmacy - they do a lot of natural therapy bullshit. They worked with my doctor growing up to find something that helped. It was basically guesswork."

"That's wild."

"It sure is," Elphaba monotoned.

"But you seem pretty comfortable in the water."

"I learnt how to swim during these lake visits. Yero taught me. Didn't do a lot of swimming growing up."

"Well, if water burns you," Galinda said a little amusedly.

"There is that. But swimming is also the last activity they'd let you do at church camps. Too risky." Galinda frowned slightly, and Elphaba quickly added, "as in because of nudity. Or partial nudity. Bathing suits. Not because swimming is dangerous. It can be. But it was about nudity- or really, sex."

"Ah." Galinda really wanted to ask about this church. All she knew was that it existed. She assumed it was linked to Unionism, especially if it had an anti-sex sentiment. She assumed it was weird too, since Crope had called it a cult.

Elphaba was not lingering on the subject however. "Are you enjoying the lake?" They asked idly. "This is Shame Machine tradition. Usually there's a lot more yelling."

Galinda couldn't help grinning at that. "It is a nice lake. Honestly, I'm more into the company. The last time I went skinny dipping was so…" Galinda struggled, then shrugged. "I don't know. There was a lot to prove. This is better."

Elphaba scoffed gently. "I haven't seen you naked, but I don't think you've got to 'prove' anything. I get the impression you're the perfect girl."

Coming from Elphaba that wasn't exactly framed as a compliment. But Galinda wasn't preoccupied with that part of their sentence. "You haven't seen me naked…? I'm naked right now."

"Yes," Elphaba said, blushing. "I'm aware, I just haven't - well, I have been looking. But not properly. Or at all really."

Galinda studied them. They seemed uncomfortable. "... Why not?"

"What? Do you want me to look?"

"Yes." Elphaba looked taken aback. Galida chuckled slightly. "Why else would I have gotten naked in the way I did?"

"I see," Elphaba said, and they were certainly uncomfortable now. "I'm sorry I can't provide you with the audience you want. I don't look at anyone naked."

"You were looking at Crope." It was true - Galinda had seen them checking out Crope's ass.

They became flustered. "That's different."

"Because Crope is male?" Elphaba's face became stony, and Galinda's stomach dropped immediately. "Sorry, was that-"

"Crope is not male."

"Sorry."

"Male is a gendered term, just like female is. Using them as purely a body descriptor doesn't work. Crope was assigned male at birth. Amab."

"Okay." Galinda probably wouldn't remember that term, but she really wanted Elphaba to stop looking at her like that. "Um, so… is that why?"

"No." They made a noise in their throat. "Yeah, I guess. Crope is also a friend. I don't know. I just don't like it."

Galinda managed to conceal her hurt at the implication they weren't friends. She'd just been helping with their show preparation and nothing more. "Can't be easy to avoid seeing that stuff," Galinda speculated instead.

"I manage."

"But you've definitely seen a- like, a not amab person - you've seen someone naked, right?"

"No." Galinda stared at them blankly. "... What?" Elphaba asked, well and truly defensive by this point in the conversation.

"Not even filmed? Like a pair of boobs in a movie or something-"

"No. Other than medical textbooks."

"You… how old are you?"

"I'm twenty one."

Galinda regarded them incredulously. "How have you possibly managed that?"

"I'm a very vigilant person," Elphaba muttered dryly. "No, I was just quite sheltered until recently."

Galinda scoffed. "Sheltered? You must've lived under a damn rock!"

"Close enough," Elphaba said amusedly. "A rock called 'my father is a reverend'."

"Ah…" Galinda might be able to probe about their church, if she was careful enough. But Elphaba must have intuited her intent; they looked past Galinda back to the shore, where Crope and Tibbett were climbing out of the lake to join Milla on the bank.

"I'm going to get out of the water. Might go back to the van and get some towels."

"Okay," Galinda said, a little crestfallen. Elphaba attempted to move around her without properly looking at her - they really had kept their eyes to themself the whole conversation - but misjudged, and brushed the length of their leg against hers. They jerked and twisted in the water to check their leg, and then looked up at her, into her eyes.

Galinda felt herself shiver. It was not from the contact of their legs - which she'd considered pretty innocuous - but from the intensity of their expression, the emotion they'd briefly unveiled to her.

They kicked away from her and shot through to the water to shore. Galinda crawled after them, and watched them run up the steps and out of sight as she stumbled over the muddy lakeside.

"Staring up at your castle?" Galinda looked down at Crope, Tibbett and Milla, who were huddled together and peering up at her.

"What?"

"You look like that painting of Ozma Lilliannapolis The Sea-Swept," Crope said. "She's standing in a bed of reeds gazing up at her great palace in the sky."

Galinda laughed unsurely. "I see. I think I know the one."

"It's very famous. Hangs in the Dixxi Royal Museum of Art."

"She was said to be one of the most beautiful Ozmas' in existence," Tibbett added, cutting her eyes at Crope, who grinned innocently.

"What can I say? I'm beautiful," Galinda said, and sat beside them. She scanned the lake for Boq and Fiyero. Boq was paddling toward the shore. Fiyero was cruising through the lake like an athlete.

"Where's Fae?" Milla asked quietly.

"Went to get towels," Galinda said back.

"I can't believe I get to hang out with them." Galinda looked at Milla, who was beaming in a kind of bemused, disbelieving way. "I mean, people barely see them outside of shows. And we just skinny dipped with them. Crazy."

"Mm."

"Maybe it's something changing about Elphaba? I mean, I never would've expected them to undress like that."

"Who knows," Galinda said, resting her head against her knees. She certainly didn't know.

But God, she wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 2 A.M. stripping song mentioned is 2 A.M. From Girltrash: All Night Long, a terrible lesbian rock-musical that I'm in love with. This song is amazing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PiBbhd5js3g


	16. Neutered Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Neutered Fruit by St. Vincent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=821r4FK9lwo
> 
> Warning for some very nsfw drawings, depictions of abuse, mentions of self harm and suicide ideation, and in depth conversations about jerkin' it. Despite all that, this is a fairly light hearted chapter, I promise :) Enjoy!

Elphaba lay in the fresh green grass of Tibbett's property. The season was finally showing evidence of turning, the sky clear and the sun shining down on them. Elphaba liked being in the sun. They typically didn't go out enough to get any sun; they avoided going out in the day time. Too many eyes on them.

They wanted to be naked, truth be told. They'd only been totally naked outside once or twice, and both times had felt… right. They were far from a spiritual person, but there was something there that fit. Something about nakedness and nature.

But, they could not get naked. Crope and Tibbett had went off to the house - probably to fuck - but Galinda was still in the warehouse, packing up her ropes and gear. They'd done leg ties and had a pretty fun session. Elphaba had attempted to vogue with a double-column tie around their thighs and sent the others into fits, flailing on their side as they imitated house music noises.

Elphaba heard Galinda approaching from behind them. "Having a nice time?" she asked somewhat amusedly.

"I'm recharging," Elphaba drawled.

"I didn't know you were solar powered."

"I'm green, aren't I?"

She laughed slightly. "Can I join you?"

"If you like." She lay down beside them. Her arm was almost close enough to brush theirs. Her skin was so pale, the fine hair she had almost translucent. "Do you burn easily in the sun?" she asked.

Elphaba looked from her arm to the sky. "No. I've never had sunburn, in fact."

"Wow. Lucky asshole."

Elphaba smiled to themself. "You're right, my skin is a  _benefit_."

"It is. Get off your high horse, Elphaba. Some of us have real problems." They laughed hard, Galinda grinning at them. "I think that's the first time I've really made you laugh."

"I'm a tough audience," they said flippantly. "The only person that really makes me laugh is Crope."

"I've noticed. You two are cute."

" _Ugh_. No. Me and Crope are not cute."

"Cute."

"No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"She makes you laugh. You check out her ass."

"I don't-"

"She managed to get you half naked," Galinda said, as if reminding them. "I got the impression that was pretty rare."

Elphaba squinted at Galinda briefly. She was staring up at the sky, not looking particularly nosy. Elphaba knew better than to rely on Galinda's appearance to read her intentions, however.

"... It was." Elphaba considered the mystery that was their own behaviour during their latest adventure to Pebblebury Lake. They had been equally naked with all of Shame Machine, but in front of guests? It defied expectations. Even Crope, the proverbial devil on their shoulder, had been taken aback.

They looked at Galinda, who had remained silent, and was watching them intently. "What?" Elphaba asked.

"Your thoughts seemed interesting."

"Hardly."

"If that was so unlikely," Galinda mused as if posing a philosophical question, "why do it?"

"Who knows," Elphaba sighed.

"You might not  _know_ , but you've thought about it." Elphaba looked at Galinda, who was staring back. "I imagine," she added shyly.

"... Crope was encouraging me. The moon was out. The show had went well. The night was right, I suppose."

"The night was right."

"Yes. It felt like something I had to seize. To prove something." Galinda didn't respond, and when they looked at her she was gazing at them curiously. They felt their face become hot with embarrassment under her scrutiny. "Really, I don't know. Does it matter?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Does it?"

Elphaba sat up, suddenly restless. "I don't think so." They peered down at her. "... I'd only do that at night, anyway. In the dark. That's why we do them at night. It's not about being seen."

"It's about confidence," Galinda said. "I get it."

Elphaba glanced away from her. "... No one in our band likes their body, you know," Elphaba said. "And none of them got naked until late last year. It was all gradual. Crope being naked in front of everyone? With her dysphoria? That's terrifying for her."

They glanced down at Galinda again. She was frowning gently.

"It's not about confidence." They cleared their throat. "It's... like self help therapy. Somewhere safe and controlled to do what you couldn't do elsewhere."

"Oh… That makes sense." She sat up and shifted to face Elphaba properly. Elphaba immediately noticed her awkwardness, perhaps because it was so unusual from her. "Um… Elphie, I know... or, I sense that you don't like your body. You don't show that much skin or anything - well, except when you were on stage actually..." Galinda hesitated.

"Galinda-"

"Well, you just said it yourself. No one in your band likes their body, including you."

Elphaba pressed their lips together.

"Oh, god…" She hid her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, that was so rude. But what I meant was," she continued stubbornly, looking at Elphaba firmly, her hands moving to take Elphaba's and squeeze them. "What I meant to say is… I don't know if it means anything, or if you want to hear it, but I saw you that night Elphaba. I saw your body, on stage and at the lake."

Elphaba had a great urge to snatch their hands from Galinda's. They wanted to get up and walk away from this conversation, but they felt paralyzed by her. Her hands on theirs. Her eyes, which were genuine and searching Elphaba for something. They just felt their heart beating and their breath coming faster and couldn't do anything about it.

Then Galinda smiled, and it was very warm, if a little worried. "I think your body is really beautiful, Elphaba."

Elphaba felt a rolling in their stomach, a sort of pleasant nausea. They looked away from her, unsure of what to do or say.

They didn't have to say anything. Galinda wasn't done, apparently. "I mean… you're tall, and handsome, and your hair is… stunning. Do you dye it?" Elphaba couldn't respond beyond shaking their head no. "Wow. It's such a nice colour. And your shoulders are  _so_  broad, that's really attractive, especially when you're muscular like you are. Like, the tattoos are cool, but even besides them, you just have great arms…"

Elphaba, face burning, was staring at the grass between their crossed legs. "Hey," Galinda said softly, and they picked up their head and glanced at her, but couldn't maintain eye contact. "Are you okay?"

They struggled, and then gave up on speaking, too overwhelmed to be verbal. They took a deep breath, and looked at her properly, and nodded. Galinda seemed slightly confused, but nodded back. "Um… should I get Crope and Tibbett?"

Elphaba shook their head, then drew their hands from Galinda's, and stretched out back over the grass. Galinda lay beside them again, giving them more distance this time.

They were quiet for a while. Elphaba attempted to process any of that conversation. They couldn't. Not here. So they put it firmly aside, or tried to.

By the time Galinda spoke up, Elphaba had found their voice. "Um, did I mess up? Did I upset you, or… was it too much…"

"You didn't mess up," Elphaba said stiffly. "... It was a lot."

"Sorry."

"It's fine." Elphaba picked at the grass idly. "I'm just… not used to that."

"You must have heard it before."

Elphaba shook their head.

"Not from your fans? They're so in love with you."

"They like the band. The spectacle. They don't talk to me." And that was true. Elphaba's fans rarely if ever attempted to communicate with them. Which was intentional; Elphaba was hard to reach, physically and online. They could only guess why their fans were fans. They assumed - they hoped - it was for the performances.

Galinda was frowning at them. "Well, I can assure you a lot of them would agree with me."

"Perhaps." Elphaba was unconvinced. Galinda sighed and laid her head back, staring up at the sky.

"... Do you think Crope and Tibbett are having sex?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Hah!"

* * *

When Elphaba got home, the first thing they did was strip on the spot. Then they tied up their hair, and regretted not tying it up earlier on such a sunny day. They threw their clothes on top of the embarrassingly large pile in their laundry and chugged down some soy milk from the carton. They were almost out. They were mostly out of food, too. They really didn't want to go grocery shopping, though.

Instead, they went into their bedroom and collapsed onto their bed. Their sheets and pillow were cold. They rolled over to cool the back of their neck. They considered turning on the fan they had sitting… somewhere. They considered reading a book, or playing an RPG, or watching their favourite political commentary YouTubers. They just didn't want to think. They didn't want lie on their bed and think about how Galinda had called them beautiful. Galinda had called them beautiful. Galinda had called them handsome and attractive and beautiful.

Elphaba smothered their own grin. Galinda was a liar. Elphaba knew that. Galinda lied about herself and her opinions fairly regularly. These lies were not wild or demonstrable, but they were lies all the same. It's what she did.

Still, they couldn't stop thinking about it. Playing it over in their head. Nobody had ever said something like that to Elphaba. Handsome. Beautiful.

Attractive.

Elphaba heaved out a sigh, dragging their hands down their face. They trailed their hands down their neck and the centre of their chest, and it sent tingles through their body, made their skin goosebump. They rested their hands on their stomach, and stared at their peeling ceiling blankly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"So, give me the weekly updates," Crope said a bit teasingly over the dahl she'd bought them to share. "What new books have you read? Any new songs? Exciting rows with neo-Wizard worshippers online?"

Elphaba cast Crope a withering look. "I've been reading about Hegelian dialectics-"

"- Again?"

" - And a book on Parfit's theories around time, memory and identity. No songs. There were several rows with neo-Wizards, none of which were exciting. They all spout the same stupid shit, it's just tired now."

Crope laughed shortly. "You've gotten bored arguing with literal fascists. Most of us can't even stomach talking to them."

"You should try disassociating more. It's very helpful."

"Is that rationality now? Disassociation?"

"By their standards, yes." Elphaba waved the matter away. "My week has been boring. How about you? You're far more exciting than me."

"Mostly just Kumbric meetings," Crope said. "The equinox is here, so we have a lot of planning to do. We're having a reading night, actually - you should come. Songs, poetry, free-form stories. Anything is welcome."

Elphaba focused on their dahl, pushed it around a little. "Nah."

"... You sure? It'll be fun!" Crope said with a grin. "There'll be a Kumbric circle with candles and thorns and everything. A bunch of cool witches reading poetry about womanhood. Me and Tibbett will be cooking, too. We're making a sick pumpkin soup. And you're welcome to sleep over."

"Crope…" Elphaba started, looked up at her.

"You don't have to be a woman, Elphie," Crope said flatly. "We have nonbinary witches."

"You have trans feminine witches. Which I am not."

"You're close enough!"

"No,  _I'm not_." Elphaba said firmly. "Wearing eyeliner on stage doesn't make me woman aligned."

Crope eyed them. "... I feel like you're a lot more trans feminine than you think."

Elphaba scowled. It was one of the few things that genuinely annoyed them about Crope - she had this habit of presuming she knew you better than you knew yourself. "I'm really not."

"Well you're not trans masc-"

"Obviously not," Elphaba dismissed frustratedly. "Anyway, most of them are cis and all of their poems are about wombs and birth and bleeding metaphors. Makes me feel like I'm misgendering myself."

Crope sat back with a huff. "True. I can't control the coven, I only co-lead with Sarima, but all the afab imagery does get a little old. The Kumbricians clearly had trans women in their societies, some of them were like eight foot tall and they talked about the 'thick white life milk of women'. Duh. Semen."

"But what if it's breast milk?" Elphaba goaded.

"But what if I stabbed you with this fork?"

"You wanna fucking go?" Elphaba pointed their dahl-covered fork at Crope threateningly, failing to stifle a grin. Crope burst into laughter.

She knocked aside Elphaba's fork with hers. "Try me, bitch." She stood up. "Mind if I make a cup of tea?"

"Out of tea."

Crope turned to look at them with a frown. "What? Out of tea? Since when did you ever run out of tea?"

"Bad timing," Elphaba said unsurely.

Crope strode over to their fridge and swung it open. She promptly swung it closed again. "Alright, we're going grocery shopping."

It'd taken about twenty minutes of circular argument over the remainder of their dahl for Crope to drag Elphaba out of their apartment. They supposed they should be grateful. They weren't. They squinted at the sun, and at everyone that looked at them and didn't look away upon passing them on the street or walking opposite to them across the road. That was almost everyone. People assumed Elphaba was in some sort of outfit, and so openly stared and smiled amusedly or uncomfortably, pulled out their phones, seemed unsure whether to ask them or not. Some, occasionally, had heard of Elphaba. Theirs was a similar reaction, but the spirit behind it was different. Usually just  _more_. More shocked, more excited, more hostile.

That's who they were out here. Always making a statement.

"I hate this," Elphaba muttered.

"I know, but you need to eat."

"If only I could afford those grocery delivery services…"

Crope glanced back at them with a little smiling frown. "You live five minutes walk from every shop you could need."

Elphaba sneered at her. "Yes, because I'm worried about the  _distance_."

"Fair, that was a stupid response," Crope allowed. "But it's more than just food. You need to get the sun on your skin. Breathe fresh air. Let yourself occupy the world."

"You know, I don't really understand you being an advocate for confidently exposing yourself to possible street harassment. It's not like you aren't a walking target yourself."

"I am, and I'm experienced as a recipient of said harassment. The difference between you and I is that I believe in strength in numbers, and I never gave myself a choice." Crope glanced at them again. "I can't just hole up like you. I wilt in the shade, Elphie."

"I believe that," Elphaba remarked. "But I find that a little irresponsible as a response. People wanting to avoid street harassment is totally understandable."

"It is, and most trans people face that problem with a mix of therapy and trying to pass. But if you can't pass - if you'll never pass, if you don't  _want_  to pass - what other choice do you have?"

"Sometimes being healthy isn't an option," Elphaba said quietly.

"Sometimes healthy behaviour is a double edged sword. It's all a balancing act. Going out only as much as you need to, preferably with company, preferably to places with people you know. Only, you can't always meet those conditions."

"Mm."

"And anyway, if you really change your perspective, there is a sort of freedom to it. You're already breaking societal norms by existing, so you have license to break others."

Elphaba peered down at Crope curiously. "Is that why you dress like that?"

Crope gave them the finger with a grin. "Yes, actually, it is. There's a reason so many queer people wear crop tops, dye their hair and don't shave. It's not for attention. It's because we have nothing to lose."

"Right."

"That's another difference between you and I, Elphie. I lean into that. I've identified it so I take it with both hands. But you're still tip toeing around it. You have green skin and you're always going to have green skin. There's no point covering it up with clothes or tattoos or borderline agoraphobic behaviour. You're never going to win being conservative when you were born radical. You need to lean into the radical."

"I sing in a band half naked weekly, and when I'm not doing that I wear nothing but Kumbrician symbology and confronting political shirts - and also, fuck you, my tattoos aren't me trying to cover my skin."

"Fine, your tattoos aren't about your skin, but your clothes and your behaviour when you're existing in public as Elphaba are. Kumbrician symbols and political statements are only more distractions from your appearance, not an embracing of that appearance. It's obvious to me that you're going about this issue wrong."

Elphaba stopped in the street. Crope realised a little belatedly, and turned back to look at them. She grimaced. "... Sorry, I know this probably isn't helping the whole being outside thing."

"No, it's not," Elphaba said coldly. "I agreed to groceries, not a character assassination."

"I don't mean it like that, Elphie-"

"Can I go?" Elphaba asked. "I'd really like to go."

"I'll stop. We can not talk at all. Just let me buy you groceries."

Elphaba's eyes fell to the pavement.

"... Okay. You go home. I'll come back with the groceries, if you don't mind me choosing stuff."

Elphaba looked up at Crope. She was watching them remorsefully, her hand positioned over her brow so it cast a warm shadow over her eyes and nose. They sighed, and paced over to her. "No, I'll come."

"Alright."

They arrived at the local grocery store. They got bread, soy milk, bio cheese, a box of hundreds of tea bags, a ten pack of instant noodles. They weighed up canned soup flavours together. They bought a lot of beans. They bought almost as much tofu, pre-marinated. Crope added carrots and broccoli and zucchini and other things Elphaba wouldn't quite know what to do with, except perhaps make stir fry. They were good at stir fry.

They were in the frozen aisle deciding between frozen chips or potato gems when Elphaba cracked. "You were right," they admitted quietly. "Mostly. About the stuff you said before."

"I still shouldn't have said it when I did," Crope replied. "It was self indulgent assholery."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're helping me out right now, so…" Elphaba had the zucchini in their two hands, bending it slightly, absently testing when it'd start to crack. It was mostly an excuse not to look at her. When she didn't respond, Elphaba glanced at her.

Crope was looking at the zucchini, and then peered up at them with a smirk. "Having fun there?"

They blushed, and held it out to her. "Very funny."

She took the zucchini and put it in the basket. "Hey, you fiddle with phallic objects around me, you're gonna hear about it. That's the price of my friendship, Elphie."

"Such a devastating toll." The zucchini made them think about their little breakthrough after their tying session last week. Elphaba cleared their throat. "Uh… actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?"

"Not here."

Crope looked at them scandalously. "Is it naughty? We're in the frozen aisle, Elphie. The frozen aisle never tells."

"More than naughty," Elphaba said dryly. "Uncomfortably personal, in fact."

"Ah, one of those talks," Crope said, and gave Elphaba a more serious, gentle smile. "Sure. For now - chips, or gems?"

"Or hash browns."

"Don't make this any harder."

Once they were back in safe confines of Elphaba's apartment, each with a cup of tea and a couple of jaffa cakes, Elphaba was ready to spill their secrets. It'd become strangely easy, telling Crope these things. It was a very unfamiliar feeling.

"I masturbated," Elphaba said bluntly.

Crope sputtered a little in her tea. She put it on the table. "God, Elphie, don't drop bombs while I'm still sipping!"

"Sorry."

"You masturbated!" Crope clapped her hands together, then frowned. "And what do we mean by…"

"I jerked off and came."

"Wow." Crope pulled a face. "Hearing you say jerk off makes me weirdly uncomfortable."

"I wasn't sure how else to put it."

"Well, that is a step," Crope breathed, looking off thoughtfully. A moment later, she refocused on Elphaba. "Is this good?"

Elphaba shrugged.

"That is to say, are you happy about it?"

"... I am," Elphaba said slowly. "Yes, I am. I laughed after. I couldn't stop myself."

Crope was grinning. "Well, that's good then."

They were silent for a while. Elphaba didn't know what to say, but Crope seemed content to wait for Elphaba to adjust to the conversation. They had a lot of thoughts swirling around their head. Too many things they wanted to say, so nothing was coming out. They picked at a scab on the inside of their wrist as they thought. It was a shallow scratch they'd made with their teeth, hardly anything to be worried about.

"I don't like to pleasure myself," Elphaba said, throwing out a thought almost randomly. Or not.

"What kind of self pleasure are we talking about?"

"I don't like… touching myself. If it results in pleasure. It feels wrong."

"So how did you do it this time?"

Elphaba looked at Crope, and flushed, and looked away. "I… thought about someone else doing it. Really thought about it. It's like I wasn't even doing it. It's almost like I blacked out and was dreaming."

"It was that convincing?"

"Sort of. Until I finished."

"And then you were happy."

"I was surprised," Elphaba clarified. "And relieved. But then -" Elphaba sighed, and rubbed their stinging wrist. "Well, I felt how I usually did about the matter. Guilty. Disgusted. Had some casual suicidal thoughts. But I'm happy about it now."

Crope studied them, her brow furrowed gently. "... I think this is going to take you time, but... that's a step in the right direction."

"I guess so." They weren't sure what they were meant to be going toward. The freedom to masturbate? Was that really so important?

"You know, I'm the opposite," Crope said thoughtfully. "I just like to touch myself. Even if I don't actually come. I just do it distractedly. Maybe you should try that. Making it casual. Not putting so much pressure on it."

"The reason there's pressure is because I don't like doing it."

"It's about unlearning behaviours, Elphie. It's worth a try at least."

Elphaba grunted. "Yeah, maybe."

They fell silent again, but it was more comfortable now. Crope sipped her tea, Elphaba stretched in their seat, feeling cleansed by the conversation. They settled back and exhaled, and caught Crope smirking at them.

They arched a brow back. "What?"

"Just wondering how you do it." Crope glanced them over. "My guess… slow and firm with your right hand."

Elphaba opened their mouth, then laughed a bit disbelievingly. "You want to know how I masturbate?"

"It's bonding!" Crope said. "Aren't you a little curious?"

They squinted at her. They were curious now. "... Alright. How?"

"Only if you tell me how you do it."

"Fine. I promise to inform you of how I masturbate," Elphaba said flatly. "You first."

"I alternate hands and keep it nice and steady. And I do a little twist at the end."

"A twist?"

"Yeah. Like, at the end of each stroke, you do a little twist." Crope made a gesture in her lap.

Elphaba looked from Crope's lap to her face. "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had."

"You were raised in a cult, so I doubt it." Crope raised her brows at Elphie. "So? How do you do it?"

Elphaba rubbed the back of their neck gingerly. "Uh… kind of the opposite of what you guessed, actually. Both hands. Slower first, then - faster."

Crope nodded slowly, her mouth twisted into a tight smiling sort of frown. "Wow. Okay. Two hands."

"What?"

"Just confirmed all my suspicions, that's all." Elphaba was puzzled. "I mean, if you need both of them…"

They then realised what she was implying. "Oh, fuck off," Elphaba said disgustedly, their face hot.

"I knew it."

"I'm going to need you to leave my house immediately."

Crope grinned. "Need some alone time, Elphie?"

"I swear to God."

"I am more than happy to help."

Why did they tell their friends anything.


	17. What You Most Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Most Wanted, by Cults! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMESejOGAU

Galinda checked her phone as she left her last class of the day. Two texts and a missed call from Avaric. She tucked it back into her skirt pocket and sighed quietly, heading off to the prefect lounge.

She technically had a photography club meeting, but her vice captain had agreed to take lead. She couldn't deal with her extracurriculars right now. She needed a coffee and some time alone. Away from all these Crage Hall girls that looked and talked too much, and weren't half as subtle as they thought.

The break up was still being discussed. She thought it'd be dead within a week, but perhaps she'd underestimated her own popularity. That wasn't a particularly reassuring thought anymore; popularity had lost its charm recently. There was something unsatisfactory about it. Last year she'd had such high hopes. She hated to be left wanting.

She sat in the lounge for half an hour sipping her coffee and cycling through phone games. She couldn't find one interesting for more than a few minutes. She had just about given up when Shenshen and Pfannee came in.

"Oh, Galinda! Don't you have photography?"

Galinda felt a headache coming on. She smiled at them as she got up to put her mug in the sink. "Wasn't feeling up to it."

"Hm."

Galinda packed her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, heading for the door.

"You're leaving already?"

Galinda stopped, and turned to peer at them. Shenshen and Pfannee were both looking somewhere between concerned and annoyed.

"Was there something I needed to stay for?"

"We haven't had a prefects meeting in three weeks," Pfannee said. "We need to continue our planning of the mid-year formal."

"We're fine. It's months away."

"It's two months away," Shenshen said stiffly. "Normally you'd be all over this."

"And we've heard you're not going to your tennis meetings as regularly."

"Or any of your other meetings. Don't you have photography?"

"I've been busy," Galinda said shortly, and attempted to leave again. Shenshen caught her wrist before she could escape.

"Galinda."

She turned to Shenshen coolly. "What."

"We're worried about you," she said gently. Pfannee nodded along anxiously. "We're worried that your break up is going to… that it's hitting you hard. And you're not reaching out for help."

"We're here for you Galinda," Pfannee added quickly. "We're your prefects and we're here to support you. There's been talk among the girls. People questioning your place-"

"Questioning my place?" Galinda snatched her wrist from Shenshen and glared. "There is no questioning my place. I have my place. Until the end of the year I am the Head Girl."

They were taken aback. "Okay."

Galinda rubbed at her temple. "Look, I need to-"

"You just don't seem like yourself, Glin…"

"I can't do this right now," Galinda muttered, starting away from them.

"Where are you going?"

"I have something on tonight."

Pfannee tried one more desperate bid. "Morrible asked us to talk to you, Galinda, you can't just-!"

She shut the door on them hard, and marched out into the main hall of the study centre.

Where had that come from? Had she really become so bad at this, to defend herself so clumsily? She was losing her touch. She didn't like it. She didn't like veils slipping.

Galinda felt like walking. She'd walk from campus as far as she felt like it. Then she'd call Ama, perhaps. Maybe she'd ask if they could go out to the woods to forage this weekend. She could have space. She wasn't sure what she wanted space from. She wasn't being particularly social lately. She just wanted space.

As she approached the clear glass doors out of the study centre, she stopped dead upon seeing Avaric leaning back against his car.

He was looking at his phone and hadn't noticed her. She walked around a corner out of his sight. She felt her eyes tearing up from sheer frustration. At him. At this day. How long would he keep doing this? He'd turned up at her house, her gym, her tennis club. Not once had she encouraged this behaviour. And yet here he was. She was tempted to march out and yell at him to leave her alone. She was tempted to call the police.

But what for? For showing up at her school? She had his texts, the backlog of missed calls. She'd deleted his voicemails. They might've convinced the police, she thought.

She sat at one of the study tables instead, dumping her bag by her feet. She held her head in her hands.

A mug was placed by her elbow. She peered up to see Pfannee and Shenshen standing over her.

"Tea," Pfannee said.

Galinda cleared her throat, moved the mug in front of her. "Thanks."

"No problem." She sat at the table, along with Shenshen. They both looked at Galinda intently. "Did you see-"

"Yes."

"Are you going to talk to him?"

Galinda hadn't told them about why her and Avaric had broken up. Not the truth anyway. "I don't think so," Galinda sighed. "I don't want to see him."

"Why?" Shenshen asked, perplexed. "I mean, fair enough, he's kind of a douche, but you've got to agree you suited each other."

Galinda felt her eyes sting. She rubbed her head, and her eyes covertly. "Because he won't leave me alone. He texts me, leaves me messages, calls me. Now he's just showing up here. I hate it. It's tiring."

"What's he been texting?" Pfannee asked.

Galinda cut her eyes at Pfannee. "Just generic stuff. Whining about how sad he is or whatever."

"Show us. It'll be good for you sweetie."

"Yeah, and it sounds like he really wants you back..."

Galinda wished she could just explain it to them. Avaric was a bad boyfriend. Avaric had hurt her. But if she told them that, it'd be all over the school, and it'd create the kind of mess she wouldn't be able to clean up.

So she sipped her tea and gave them nothing. Tonight, she'd have the whole big house to herself. She'd order nice food and have a long bath. Maybe she'd even turn her phone off.

* * *

 

Galinda approached a townhouse fifteen minutes out of Shiz Central with red wine, a cheese platter and fresh bread provided by Ama Clutch. The little garden was overgrown, the front veranda made of concrete, occupied by a lone chair and table. The table was decorated bizarrely with a jar jammed full of cigarette butts and two rubber goldfish figurines. She rang the doorbell, and picked one of the fish up. It was hollow and see through where it wasn't painted orange. She put it back as the door was answered.

"Galinda! So glad you could make it." Crope stood in the doorway, warm light and the conversation of young women spilling from behind her. "Oh god, did you bring something? You shouldn't have."

"Just some cheese and wine."

"Cheese and wine! How did you know Kumbric events were so pretentious? I love it." Crope ushered her in and shut the door behind her. "Everyone's here except Sarima, she'll be a little late."

Galinda vaguely remembered Sarima. "I was going to bring prosciutto, but I wasn't sure if I would offend people…"

"A lot of us are vegan or vegetarian, but we're not about judging what people eat. Though there are more ethical ways to consume. But there's no truly ethical consumption under capitalism of course," she said with a smirk, suggesting she was making a joke.

Galinda smiled back, slightly puzzled. "Sure."

Crope eyed her briefly, then continued to lead her into the house. "Anyway, the Kumbricians were borderline carnivorous. Some Kumbric sisters make a special effort to eat meat on days of gravitas."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I suppose."

"Well, this equinox is a special event, but not a day of gravitas. Those are days of cosmic and earthly importance, a shifting of ethereal lenses. But, you may come to read all this if Kumbric worship strikes your fancy."

Crope took her to the kitchen to deliver her wine and cheese, and then directed her to the living room. There she found a ring of girls, humans and Animals - including Milla and Tibbett - sat around a pinkish pentagram. Five items headed each point of the star, each item sitting on top of a book of some sort. Each of the girls, too, held books in their hands - notebooks and bound diaries and moleskines.

Galinda had not come with any material to share. She had not written anything in her life except a dream journal when she was younger. Crope had told her it was not necessary.

"Galinda!" Milla said brightly, and shifted over to make a space beside her. She squeezed herself into the circle. "Good to see you here."

"Yeah, I'm actually pretty excited," Galinda said a bit shyly, glancing at the various women around her.

"Did you bring any material?"

"I don't really write."

"You don't necessarily have to write. It's called a reading night because Kumbricians had a big culture of poetry, but lyrics, storytelling, art… they're all forms of expression."

"Not everyone agrees with that," said a Quadling on Milla's other side. She was a large, round-faced woman, but she pulled it off. Her makeup was dramatic and very well applied, her outfit almost as dark as her skin, and pretty daring for her size, Galinda thought.

Everyone's makeup was pretty dramatic, she noticed belatedly, their eyes lined and decorated with various designs.

"Well yeah, but… fuck traditionalists."

"We're worshipping a dead race's cultural artifacts. Can't really blame traditionalists being traditional in this context."

"Still weird," Milla said. The Quadling lady just smiled amusedly. Milla glanced at Galinda. "Galinda, this is Demascena, my girlfriend. Dee, Galinda."

"Demascena," Galinda repeated with her best grin. "What a beautiful name. It's nice to finally meet you after hearing so much."

Demascena gave Galinda a muted smile. "Yes, it's nice to put a face to the name. Are you here just for the friendship, or…?"

"I'm a little interested," Galinda said. "Not that I know anything about Kumbrician's."

"No one does until they're interested." Despite the somewhat flat delivery, Galinda thought it might've been intended as flirting. "It's a very difficult topic to research, as you may imagine."

"Why is that?" Galinda asked conversationally, though she wasn't all that curious truth be told.

"Almost all their recorded history is poetry in a lost language."

"Ah, that would do it."

"But they were incredibly prolific," Demascena went on. "They fell thousands of years ago, their language is understood by only a handful of people, and yet there are still volumes of Kumbrician poetry. That said, poetry is just what Kumbrician academics call it - Kumbrician writing is very diverse. Some of their literary structures are completely alien to modern Oz."

"I would imagine that'd be the case if they lived thousands of years ago," Galinda said, letting her disinterest colour her voice a little.

"Yes. They have been researched of course. Mostly by Vinkan professors since Kumbricia is in The Great Kells. Do you know about Kumbricia? The city of the Kumbricians, carved into the side of the black mountain ranges?"

"I don't…"

"It's a glorious place. Twice as big as the Emerald City, constructed almost entirely of black rock and marble. And the whole place is empty. No sign of war or any destruction, beyond wind and water damage. It's like they all just left. It's one of history's greatest mysteries."

Galinda glanced at Milla, and then smiled stiffly. "That's interesting."

Milla glanced back at her, then placed her hand on Dee's knee. "You're info dumping babe."

"Ah, so I am," Demascena said easily, clearly used to such a comment. "Anyway, I suggest researching it yourself. Though you will get a sense of their culture tonight since we'll be reading Kumbrician texts."

"I can't wait," Galinda said politely.

The doorbell went off, and Crope hurried from out the kitchen, calling that she was coming. "Must be Sarima," Milla remarked. "Hope she's alright."

"Have you talked to her recently?" Dee asked.

"No."

Crope returned a moment later, a familiar girl in tow. Galinda had a vague recollection of her from the warehouse party that'd happened… had it been months now? Perhaps it had been. She was in a big sweater and a skirt that went down to her feet, and her eyes were dark at the corners. She briefly made eye contact with Galinda and then looked away, her face flat.

"Did something happen?" Galinda asked Milla quietly. "To Sarima I mean."

"Not my drama to share, princess." Galinda gave her an annoyed look, and she rolled her eyes. "Came out to her family and it was… complicated. Went badly."

"Oh." Galinda watched as she was hugged by the sisters around her, and asked after too softly for Galinda to hear. She observed Sarima's smile, which seemed very weak.

"So." Galinda brought her attention back to Milla and Dee. Demascena draped her arm over Milla's shoulders, leaning her head against hers. She smiled playfully. "I hope you've had plenty of fun with Milla?"

Galinda was briefly taken aback by the directness. Milla gave Dee a look, blushing. "Dee."

"I'm only asking a question," she said innocently.

"Sorry, do you mean…"

"She means us having sex," Milla said exasperatedly. "Don't indulge her."

"But I love being indulged." Demascena dragged her hand to the back of Milla's neck. That was a gesture Galinda understood. She recalled Milla telling her Demescena was a dominatrix. Galinda also understood that gesture was intended for Milla, not her.

Galinda recovered fast. "She's been a lot of fun," she said, perhaps a bit suggestively. Milla looked between both of them, red and embarrassed.

"Milla is annoyingly thorough about boundaries, she refuses to tell me the details without your explicit consent on the matter."

Galinda glanced at Milla with a slightly bemused smiled. "Of course you could have told her about us."

"Well, I didn't want to assume."

"She's your partner!"

Both Milla and Dee looked confused. "Um… so? I don't have a duty to report these things to her."

Demascena hummed at that. "That'd be sort of fun to roleplay, actually…"

"Oh, that would be good," Milla replied distractedly.

"I'd want to know," Galinda said. "Otherwise I think it'd bug me."

"Sounds monogo," Milla muttered.

"Poly couples have rules like that," Dee said to her.

"I guess so. It feels a bit invasive."

"Some people need that to feel secure. As long as the other person is comfortable with it, it's fine."

"But who would be?"

"I would be," Galinda said, re-entering the conversation. "I'd want to tell my partner. It'd feel strange not to." Milla grimaced almost reflexively. "Is that strange?" Galinda asked Dee.

"No, it's just Milla."

"It's not my fault monogamy is weird as fuck."

Dee patted her hand. "Alright, sweetie."

Crope clapped her hands, and the din of conversation fell quiet. She sat before the top point of the pentagram, a large hardcover tome on her lap. "Sisters," she said warmly. "Is everyone settled? If anyone wants to make tea, coffee, get a glass of wine, now is the time." A couple of women got up and went to the kitchen. "We're going to open tonight's circle with passed reading." Crope passed the book to the woman beside her.

"Passed readings are where you open the book and read whatever verse you first see," Milla murmured to her.

"Just one verse?"

"Yes. It gets everyone centred on Kumbricia."

The room fell silent, and the first reader began.

" _Surrounded by growth, nurse logs with layers of moss and life, young cedars, the sound of water, thick salal, God-like huckleberries. The ground absorbs and remakes whatever falls. Nothing dies here_."

"Centred on Kumbricia?"

"Yes. You want everyone to be feeling the same spirit. Then everyone is listening to each other properly. It's very important to listen to your sisters."

The book was passed around.

" _I perform ablutions staring out my window, to the mountain range. The pass arches and stretches, it is the open legs of a Goddess. You compare yourself to the mountain range, but your body is not the body of a Goddess, or anything with power over my life."_

"This is pretty serious, huh."

"I guess."

The book was in Sarima's lap. She opened it randomly, and her hands curled around it, turning white.

" _You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees, for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves_."

"I've never been to any kind of religious ceremony… except, I think, my parents had Lurine dances in the spring."

"I've never been to a Lurine event," Milla mused quietly.

"They're very jolly."

" _They say a natural, cleansing devastation burning the understory, erasing trails - There is no end. When I'm kneeling in the heat, wiping down your bloodless body, the devastation is not natural or good. You do belong here. I reject nature, I disagree._ "

"That is refreshing. The only old religion I associate with joy is Pleasure Faith."

"Is that really a religion?"

"I mean… it's about as consistent as we are."

" _Urge and urge and urge. Always the procreant urge of the world. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life._ "

"Speaking of Pleasure Faith." Galinda cut her eyes at Milla, who looked curious. "These are pretty suggestive."

"Yeah."

" _I will go to the bank by the grass and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be i_ _n contact with me._ "

"Not exactly subtle."

"They didn't have any shame around it."

" _It is not on her lap where the horn rests, but deep in her moonpit, growing._ "

The closed book was passed to Galinda. The cover was dark wine-red linen and untitled. She opened it towards the start of the book. She scanned the first verse she saw. She cleared her throat, and glanced up at the circle of people, some of them looking at her. Many had their eyes closed. She was unexpectedly nervous as she began to read:

" _I am tired of being careful, I am over observation, I want to master your hardness and mine. Your pliant flesh, our friend, their sister. Kissing the sweating bottle curving up, light on skins, cheeks drawn in and in. Sucking, my Goddess, us. The moon wanes, as I fatten beneath it, an undone famine, a feast not to be wasted_."

Galinda closed the book and passed it to Milla, and exhaled slowly. "Nice," Milla remarked to her quietly.

* * *

 

The material shared by the Kumbric sisters varied greatly, from poems that read more like political essays to surreal accounts of dreams. One had been the author's experience visiting a famously beautiful forest in south-east Gillikin, told through the suggestive descriptions of dewy moss, smooth bark, blooming flowers, moist earth. Very Kumbrician, Galinda thought.

They took a break to eat. Galinda's cheese and wine were brought to the circle, bowls of soup were distributed. The sisters burned incense, lit candles and turned off the lights, went off to smoke or look at the progress of Crope's herb garden. Crope, Milla, Dee and Sarima stayed at the circle, with a couple of other women Galinda didn't know. She was introduced to them; Thomasina, a painter; Lehrae, a tattoo artist and body modifier; Valka, a Crow slam poet.

Galinda dimly recalled Sarima mentioning the importance of creativity to Kumbric worship. What did Galinda create? She could do makeup, but that was more of a necessity to her. She'd always drawn through her life, but it was frivolous and distracted, the sort of work that'd stay in the margins of her textbooks. She took photos. She liked clothes too, but… It wasn't the same somehow.

"Good turn out tonight," Thomasina said over a glass of wine. "Guess the equinox is inspiring people."

"We're finally turning to Autumn," Sarima murmured. She'd been meditating or something ever since the readings had started. "It's cool enough that people have the energy and focus to create without it depressing them like Winter."

"I'm so ready for winter," Crope bemoaned. "I hate the heat."

"I sort of expected Elphaba to be here," Galinda said.

Crope glanced at Sarima, who had her eyes closed and her hands resting on the knees of her crossed legs. "I asked them, but they don't like Kumbric events. Too gendered."

"Aren't they closer to a woman?" Galinda asked unsurely. She'd just assumed since they were - what was it? Assigned male at birth.

"Well, that's what I think," Crope started.

"Elphie doesn't like rituals," Sarima cut in. She opened her eyes to look at Crope. "Any rituals of any kind. They can't do them."

"Really? They haven't mentioned it before."

"You shouldn't invite them here." Sarima stood up and walked out into the kitchen.

Everyone was silent and awkward for a long moment. "Should someone go out with her?" Dee asked.

"She needs her space. Her and Elphie have some complications right now," Crope said vaguely. "It's best we don't talk about it.

"But back to Elphie's gender. I think they're trans feminine but they're scared to say it because of internalised transphobia - like they think it'll make them seem like a predator - because they've always been into cis girls most. That's what I've noticed anyway."

"That is entirely speculation," Tibbett added, leaning out of the kitchen doorway. "No one take her seriously."

"How dare you, I am  _very_  good at reading people!" Tibbett rolled her eyes and went back to whatever she was doing. "Maybe Elphie is truly entirely genderless," Crope went on. "And maybe that feeling is so strong they can't bear even being involved with us. But I'm not quite convinced. And I think this would be good for them."

"How so?"

"They need to meet more people. Get used to making friends. Maybe even flirt a bit. They're so sheltered and isolated, I can't imagine how they'll ever meet someone."

Milla laughed shortly. "Sounds like you want to play match maker."

"Maybe so," Crope said slyly. "But hey, they need the help. With being less awkward, anyway. They've already got half the queer community in love with them."

"Do they?" Dee asked.

Milla cut her eyes at Demascena. "Um, have you seen them?"

"Yes." Milla frowned. Dee shrugged her shoulders. "Not my type."

"Not your type?"

"Sorry," Dee said amusedly as Milla regarded her disbelievingly.

"This is blasphemous. Fae negativity. Do you condone this?"

Crope shrugged her shoulders. "I don't understand it personally. Tibbett is the same way."

"What? No way. Tibbett isn't attracted to Fae?"

"Apparently not, but personally, I'm not sure I believe her…"

Galinda was rapidly losing interest in the conversation. She was still thinking about Sarima, and the way she'd looked talking about Elphaba and how she'd walked out at a slow tread. Galinda could see that she was heartbroken. So she stood up, and told them she was going to get a drink, and went to go look for Sarima.

Sarima was sitting on the front veranda on her own, staring out onto the street. Galinda hovered behind the other seat set across from her.

"Getting some fresh air?" Galinda asked gingerly.

Sarima glanced at her, her lips pursing. "... Something like that."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Yes." Galinda blinked at her abruptness. "I came out here to be left alone," she said quietly.

"Can I ask why?"

Sarima looked annoyed. "It's none of your business."

Galinda hesitated unsurely for a few moments, then sat down across from her anyway. She picked up one of the goldfish figurines, kneading it distractedly.

Sarima grimaced at her. "... What do you want? I said I want to be alone."

"You clearly have some stuff going on," Galinda said gently. "I'm a stranger, I know, but… maybe that makes me a good person to talk to about this. And it seems to me you should talk about it."

"And why is that?" Sarima asked coldly.

"Because you're hurt. It's obvious. It's not good to keep those things bottled up."

Sarima stared at her, then looked away, smiling almost in disbelief. "You think I don't know it's obvious?" she asked. "You think I don't know what I look like? How everyone is walking on eggshells around me?"

Galinda looked down at Sarima's glare. "I guess that was a stupid thing to say."

Sarima was silent, and then sighed to herself quietly. "I know I'm hurt. And I've talked about it. But it doesn't help. It's just time. That's what Tibbett says. Just more time, and I'll feel okay about my family. About losing a friend I've been in love with since I was in fucking primary school." Sarima hid herself in her hands. "God, they must  _hate_  me."

"This is… Elphaba?"

Sarima glanced at Galinda. "Yeah. We grew up together. They've always been…" she stopped, her breath catching. "It's always been them. And this year it was like… so different. They were actually talking to me, hanging out with me." She cleared her throat. "Even making out with me. They're so antisocial, it was like… surreal."

"I see."

"But I fucked it up." Her voice broke. "I fucked it up. I was  _so_  desperate. I was so pushy, and crazy, and desperate, and now they hate me and it's… it's  _humiliating_."

"Why do you think they hate you?"

"Because I fucking proposed to them. I mean, it makes more sense with how we were raised," she said offhandedly, but Galinda was intrigued - how was Elphie raised that made Sarima proposing less strange? "But it was still probably the worst thing I could have done. But I just wanted everything to stop. I just wanted to fix it. No broken family. No break up with me and Elphie. God, we weren't even dating..."

"How were you guys raised?" Galinda asked.

Sarima looked at her, sniffled. "It's a lot…"

"I've got time."

"I'd rather not talk about it." Galinda sat back. Sarima followed the movement with her eyes. "... Why do you want to know?"

"I guess I'm just curious. I mean, I've heard a few things from Elphie or Crope that made me wonder, but…"

Sarima stared at her for a long moment. Then her face fell into a cold, closed mask. "Oh."

Galinda smiled confusedly. "What-?"

"You're into Elphie, aren't you?" Galinda felt herself freeze. Sarima made a gentle, wry hum. "Should have seen that coming. You were way too determined to listen to my problems."

Galinda sat forward, her stomach dropping. "No, I was just concerned-"

"No you weren't," Sarima said tiredly. "You wanted gossip about your crush. Don't worry, I'm not bitter you like them. People have always liked them. They're a fucking magnet."

"I'm not-"

"I'd just appreciate if you didn't pretend you care while poking my wounds for information." Sarima glared at her, and it was so palpably hostile she leaned back slightly. "Please, leave me alone."

Galinda wandered back inside. She hovered in the hall, her heart in her throat, her stomach twisting. Galinda had cared. Galinda had thought she looked sad, and she cared, so she'd went out to talk to her. She hadn't done it because she wanted to hear about Elphaba. It wasn't that. She wasn't that person. She wasn't. She was nice. She was being nice.

Tibbett came across her in the hall. She paused, and hovered near her. "Hey… are you okay?"

Galinda glanced up at Tibbett. She forced a smile. "I'm fine, just - tired."

Tibbett eyed her skeptically, clearly not fooled. "… Let me know if you need anything. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied quietly. Tibbett touched her arm briefly, then continued into the kitchen. Galinda slumped against the wall.

God. She was that person. She wasn't nice. She didn't care about Sarima. She'd just wanted to hear about Elphaba.

She just cared about Elphaba...

She followed Tibbett into the kitchen, and touched her shoulder. Tibbett looked at her gently, asked what she needed.

"I think I should go home…"

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POEM REFS, in order:  
> Mount Eerie - Ravens  
> Adrienne Rich - From A Survivor (inspired)  
> Mary Oliver - Wild Geese  
> Mount Eerie - Forest Fire  
> Walt Whitman - Leaves of Grass (two of them in a row)  
> Audre Lorde - The Black Unicorn  
> Omar Sakr - A Lunar Binge
> 
> also if you noticed i typed it 'glinda' in the illustrations: i know...... let me live


End file.
